Lord of the Rings: The Third Age
by INMH
Summary: Based on the RPG game. Berethor, Idrial, Elegost, Hadhod, Morwen and Eaoden arrive at Helms Deep to aid the remaining members of the Fellowship in their quest.
1. Arrival

A/N: For those of you who don't know them, Berethor, Idrial, Morwen, Elegost, Hadhod and Eaoden are from the Lord of the Rings RPG game, The Third Age. (For those of you who do know who they are and want a challenge, look in my profile). Anyway, I practically worship the game and the movie and the book, so I couldn't resist writing this. This opens at Helms Deep, the afternoon before the fight.

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"Open the gates!"

Six riders, all on chestnut colored horses, rode at a steady pace up the long and winding bridge to the main doorway of Helms Deep. One of them, a human man, appeared to be leading the group. He was young, maybe in his thirties, with rust colored hair and dark eyes. He wore armor bearing the symbol of Gondor, a white tree. He carried a long, large sword on his wait, which rhythmically tapped against his leg in pace with the horse's movement.

Behind him rode a female elf. She had long, blonde hair in one long braid that went to about her waist, and icy blue, though not unkind, eyes. She wore a dark red coat with matching pants, and thigh-high red boots that laced all the way up. She had a lethal looking sword strapped to her side that she frequently glanced at, as though to make sure it was still there.

The only other female in the group rode close to the elf, though keeping a deliberate distance between them (She suspected that the elf wasn't entirely pleased with her joining the group). This woman was a young human, with dark red hair tied into two short, messy braids on either side of her head, and emerald green eyes. Her shirt and knee length skirt was torn and slightly burned in some places, indicating that she was no stranger to battle. There were two, small battle-axes strapped at her side.

A short, dwarven man on a horse followed the human woman. He had a black beard and hair, with equally dark eyes. He was clad in armor as well, though it was less conspicuous as the first man's armor. One large, rather intimidating looking axe was strapped onto his back in a slanted position.

Yet another human man kept his horse up next to the dwarf's. He had shoulder length, dark brown hair (And a mustache) and dark blue eyes. He wore a dark, weather-beaten cloak that concealed much of the clothing he wore under it. On his back was a bow and a case of sharp to the very point arrows, and at his side was a jagged looking dagger.

The last man, also a human, brought up the rear of the group. He had shoulder length, dark blonde hair and intelligent hazel eyes. He was clad in armor bearing the symbol of Rohan, a (You guessed it) horse. A sword and a spear were in sheaths at his side, bumping against his arm and leg when the horse's hooves pounded into the ground.

The large and wide doors creaked open, and the riders passed through. A fair number of Rohirrim soldiers stood on the other side, observing the new arrivals with clear distrust. The man bearing the symbol of Rohan rode to the front of his companions, as though to protect them should the soldiers advance. Some of the soldiers visibly relaxed when they saw the man, and one soldier pushed through the others and stopped in front of him.

"Eaoden," Gamling said, obviously relieved. "Thank the Gods. We had thought you dead." Eaoden smiled and climbed down from his horse.

"Please, Gamling. I thought you would realize by now that it takes more than a couple of Wargs to slow me down." Eaoden playfully chided the man. The other riders climbed down from their horses as Eaoden continued. "They are trustworthy. They have been looking for Lord Aragorn and his companions for a long time, and they wish to aid us in the upcoming battle." Gamling nodded.

"I am pleased. We will need all of the swords we can get. If they are looking for Lord Aragorn, then I suggest they check the main hallway. He showed up only an hour ago, after we had presumed him dead as well." He said. The dwarf snorted quietly.

"Do they presume all who fall behind dead?" He muttered to his friend, whose name was Elegost. The man smiled wryly.

"Bite your tongue, Hadhod- they seem hostile enough as it is." He said quietly. "And we don't know how sharp their hearing is." Hadhod shook his head.

"Whatever you say, Ranger, whatever you say." He said, taking the reigns of the horse and leading it after the others, who were now being led to the stables.

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After having stored away their horses, the new comers split up. The first man, whose name was Berethor, went in search for Aragorn so that he may find information on where his captain, Boromir of Gondor, was. The elf-woman, whose name was Idrial, went to explore the fortress she had heard was impenetrable. The other woman, whose name was Morwen, went to look for Gimli, so of Gloin; apparently, they had met before.

Eaoden was to be brought before Theodan and give a formal report on his companions, still strangers and regarded with suspicion within the walls of Helms Deep. Hadhod and Elegost, both of which had not had much of a decent meal in weeks, had set off in search of something to eat.

Berethor had taken Gamling's words seriously, and was making his way up to the main hallway, combing it for any sign of the man he had searched for since the day after the Fellowship has set off from Rivendell. Through Eregion to Moria, from the Emnet Gullies to the Plains of Rohan, all the way to Helms Deep. Frankly, Berethor was sick of looking.

"At least now I can find Lord Boromir," He muttered. Another thing that was plaguing him was the jealousy Idrial, the first person to join his quest (Though she had other motivations), had for Morwen, the human woman he had become rather infatuated with. Idrial had shown interest in him before, especially after she gave him that kiss in Moria. Now she took stabbing blows (Thankfully, they were figurative speech stabs) at Morwen whenever she got the chance, and never missed a chance to slide a glare at the Rohan woman.

As Berethor arrived in the main hallway, he looked around to look for a man fitting Aragorn's description: Rugged, fairly dirty, and around the age of thirty, or so it would appear. Elegost, being a Ranger himself, was somewhere in his seventies, as far as Berethor knew, but looked like he was no older than thirty-four or so.

The hall had many people loitering around, though they were mostly soldiers and village people from Edoras and other cities; not people you'd expect to be a Ranger. Up ahead, Berethor saw Morwen entering the dining hall, and went to go after her. But before he could call to her, his eyes froze on someone.

He saw one man sitting at a table, rubbing his face in a tired manner. He fit the description of the man he searched for, and ironically, had an uncanny resemblance to Elegost. This man also looked as though he had just been thrown off a cliff into a river and carried away by the rapids (I couldn't resist LOL). Approaching slowly, Berethor walked up to the bruised man.

"Greetings," He said in a cordial manner. The man looked up, and offered Berethor a tired but friendly smile. "I am Berethor. I have been told that I could find Aragorn, son of Arathorn here. Are you him?" He continued. The man nodded.

"Yes," Aragorn said. "I am him." He indicated for Berethor to sit down on the bench across from him, and Berethor obliged. "Why were you looking for me, Berethor?"

"I was told that you knew the whereabouts of Lord Boromir, my captain. I have followed you and your fellowships progress since you left Rivendell, though I have lost track of you many times." Berethor explained. A look of sorrow flashed across the Ranger's face.

"Berethor," He said. "I am sorry, but I bear only ill news concerning your captain." Berethor felt as though an icy hand was squeezing his heart. He knew what was coming before Aragorn even said it. "Boromir is dead. He was slain by Orcs near the falls of Rauros. I am so very sorry." Berethor swallowed hard. He was honestly upset at Boromir's demise, but he was also wondering how in the name of the Gods he was supposed to tell Lord Denethor that his son was dead. Even though Berethor had the utmost respect for the Steward, he had his doubts about Denethor's mental stability.

There was no way this could end well.

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Okay, this is a very weak start, but I swear it'll get better!


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

Morwen entered the dining hall and stopped, her eyes wandering over the various people that were talking, eating, or aimlessly wandering about. Her eyes stopped on a person at a table towards the front of the hall, near the King's throne. He was short in stature, with dark reddish-brown hair and a beard; he also had an axe at his side, resting on the empty bench space beside him. Morwen smiled to herself, and walked up to the man.

"Hello friend." She said, moving so that she was facing him. The man looked up, and offered her a smile through his thick beard.

"Morwen, lass! I didn't think I'd be seeing you for some time. How are you?" Morwen sat down across from her friend.

"I am fine, Gimli. Though I wish I could say the same for my parents. My party and I found them dead on the way here." She explained, her voice wavering ever so slightly when she said the word "dead". Gimli bowed his head.

"My condolences, Morwen. That isn't a good way to learn a person's fate." He said. Morwen forced a smile, even though she'd rather have just sat in a corner and brooded for a while. She had to admit that Gimli was right: She would have rather found out from someone than having to look upon her mother and father's bodies herself.

"So," Morwen continued, trying to force the conversation down a different road. "What have you been up to since I last saw you?" Gimli grunted.

"Ah, so you want a story do you? Well, I'll give you the summarized version of it. I've spent the last two ruddy months with four mischievous halflings, a grumpy old wizard, a Ranger, a Gondorian obsessed-and I mean obsessed- with his home, and a skipping, gibberish speaking, tree-hugging-" Gimli stopped a moment to shudder, "-Elf." He made a distinct noise of disgust, though Morwen thought that it sounded a bit over exaggerated.

"Oh dear," She said in a voice of mock distress. "How ever did you survive?" Gimli grimaced.

"Oh, sure, make fun of me now. But honestly, he's a royal pain when he wants to be. If you'd ever been with an elf, you'd know." Now it was Morwen's turn to grimace.

"Oh, believe me, I know. There was an elf traveling with us on our way here. She's around here somewhere, though I really don't want to know where. I'm not sure what I did, but for some reason she just seems to detest me. Honestly, I've hardly said to words to the woman and she's trying to tear my throat out at every turn!" She said. Gimli chuckled.

"See? Traveling with elves is fun, isn't it?"

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Speaking of Idrial and Legolas, coincidentally, the two of them were about to meet. Idrial was met by a golden opportunity the second she entered Helms Deep; to get the Cuma (Elvish for Hell) away from Berethor, Elegost and Hadhod- the only three people she's been around for the past few months. And frankly, they were driving her insane.

Elegost was always playing with that _damned_ bowstring of his, and making the most annoying noise that Idrial had heard in two thousand and forty-three years of life. Then there was Hadhod, who snored when he slept and kept her up all night; Thank the Valar that Elves go quite long without sleep. And then there was Berethor. To put it bluntly, he disgusted her- ogling over Morwen like a love-struck puppy.

Due to her extensive pride, if you had asked Idrial directly it's likely she would have denied that she was rather jealous. She was all too aware that Berethor had been infatuated with her before Morwen came along, and she had reflected his feelings. Berethor was a brave, confident, well-mannered man: Who wouldn't enjoy those qualities in a man? And it's not like she wasn't subtle; she had even kissed the man after he saved her in Moria, for the sake of the Valar!

But no- he had to fall in love with a member of his own species, and frankly, it was breaking her heart. That twit; Idrial had a sneaking suspicion that Morwen wasn't even interested in him. He was virtually wasting his time, and the thought of that offered her a bit of comfort. She couldn't wait to see Morwen turn him down- then Idrial's day would be complete.

The lady elf was walking along the top of the protective wall of Helms Deep, passing soldiers placed at their stations every fifteen feet or so. Up ahead, she saw a something platform attached to the wall that jutted out over the area outside of Helms Deep, with high walls surrounding it. She walked up to see if there might be a view or something, and stopped in her tracks.

Staring out into the mountain range was an elf. Idrial was surprised by this fact alone, seeing as she had thought that she was the only elf in Helms Deep. The thing that really made her halt was that she had seen this elf before; briefly, yes, but she had. He was Legolas, Son of Thranduil and Prince of Mirkwood. Idrial had seen him briefly in Lothlorien with his father some four hundred years ago.

She turned to leave, wishing to give Legolas his privacy as he was clearly in deep thought, but stopped when he turned to face her. Idrial then realized that he had probably heard her coming a mile off, and not turned around until her heard her stop.

"Hello," He said placidly.

"Greetings, Prince Legolas." Idrial said, politely bowing at the waist to him. Legolas returned the bow, and then straightened back up. "It is a privilege to fight alongside you." She continued. Legolas smiled lightly.

"Your words honor me, my lady. You seem to know me, although I do not know you. What is your name?" He asked.

"Idrial, of Lothlorien. I arrived here with a party of humans and a dwarf only about two hours ago." Idrial stated. Legolas' smile turned grim.

"Then I fear you have come at a dark time, Idrial. A battle is upon us, and I fear it may not be a battle at all: only a massacre." The Prince's voice was sad, and Idrial felt a vague stab of doubt hit her about the stability of Helms Deep. All fortresses could be breached over time- whether from destruction or surrender. If the Uruk-Hai and Orcs decided to fight and siege Helms Deep, then they were all doomed. According to her sources, Idrial was told that there was no other way out of Helms Deep.

"You do not believe there is any hope?" She asked. Legolas paused for a moment, thinking. Then he mournfully shook his head.

"No. I do not believe there is hope." He briefly looked out into the mountains again, as though expecting the Uruk-Hai army to come marching through right then. Then he turned back and looked Idrial in the eye. "Theodan's army is little more than farmers, merchants and stable boys. Many of his men were killed in an ambush on the way here; Orcs riding Wargs took us unaware in the mountains." Idrial nodded.

"We found evidence of a battle a little while before we reached Helms Deep. Unfortunately, not all of the Wargs had quite left the battle field yet." She smarted at the memory of about five Wargs descending from a nearby hill and attacking them. That little battle had not been pleasant.

"Theodan now looks for as many villagers as possible to fight. He even pulls children out of the caves to fight in the battle: I saw one child earlier who couldn't have been more than twelve years of age." Idrial's eyes narrowed.

"Why draft a child to fight when they don't know how? What will that accomplish?" She asked, sorrow for the young boys that had to fight was evident in her tone. Legolas shook his head, equally depressed.

"I do not know. I suppose Theodan thinks that if he has enough people fighting, he'll be as dangerous as the Uruk-Hai and the Orcs." He shook his head again and turned again to the mountains. Idrial hesitantly stepped up next to him and also looked out. Under different circumstances, she would have viewed the mountains as beautiful, and even a bit romantic (The word romance burned a bit when she thought about it). But now, as the sun began to set, they looked ominous, foreboding and menacing.

"What do you think?" Legolas asked, moving slightly so that their eyes met again. "Do you believe there is hope for us all?" Idrial thought for a moment, weighing all of the factors in her mind.

"As long as there is life," She said. "I believe there is hope." Legolas smiled. Suddenly, the mountains didn't seem so foreboding anymore.

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Hadhod and Elegost ended up walking through the camps in the inner courtyards of the fortress, anxious of the battle ahead.

"'Tis going to be a bloody night, Ranger, mark me. Saruman looks for blood; the blood of Rohan and its people." He thought for a moment, and then added: "Come to think of it, it's going to be something of a long night as well." Elegost nodded in agreement.

"There is talk of some thousand Uruk-Hai marching here. We'll be lucky to escape with our lives." He said, pulling on the string of his bow. Without realizing it, he was doing the exact thing that drove Idrial nuts. Hadhod snorted.

"Escape? Laddie, there is no escape from this fortress. We're pressed up against a mountain and, unless you're a spirit and can pass through solid rock, I have been unable to locate an alternate escape route. So I would take a wild guess that if we do not keep the enemy from the inner walls of the castle, this place shall become our tomb." Hadhod said bitterly.

"Yes. What kind of fool would build a castle into a mountain side?" Elegost asked. Hadhod stopped walking and looked at Elegost through slit-thin eyes.

"My people helped build this castle, Ranger." Elegost stopped dead, and then thought about that for a moment and tried to think up a good cover.

"Well-ah- well- well you know I don't mean that you're an fool, Hadhod, or any of your people, I just, I, um-" For the first time Elegost could remember in a good, long time, he was at a loss for words. He hadn't meant to insult Hadhod, and he made a mental note to (if he survived the night) read up on absolutely every fortress in Middle Earth that the Dwarves had helped create so as to avoid this situation again. But Hadhod then surprised his friend by laughing.

"Relax, Elegost, relax- I was only joking. Come to think of it, it is rather stupid to build a fortress into the side of a ruddy mountain, isn't it?" Elegost made eye contact with Hadhod, just to make sure everything was all right. Hadhod had a mischievous smirk on and a gleam in his eye. He had truly been joking when he had acted offended.

After a minute, Elegost saw the humor in it, and chuckled. Then the chuckle became a guffaw, which changed into an out-right laugh. Hadhod joined in, and they both laughed like fools, attracting the attention of everyone around.

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READ THIS: Okay people, here's the scoop- I haven't managed to get past the battle at Helms Deep in The Third Age game, so I really don't know what happens next. If anyone out there has finished the game, or knows someone who finished the game, could you tell me what happen so that I can continue?


	3. The Beggining of a very long night

A/N: Sorry I took so long to update. Trying to get past Helms Deep in that game is freaking hard! THIS CHAPTER IS RELOADED! BIG THANK YOU TO ELVEN SAILOR GIRL! THE TRANSLATIONS WERE VERY HELPFUL!

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Berethor dreaded nightfall.

That is when Aragorn had said the Uruk-Hai would reach Helms Deep. Though Berethor was not afraid to fight (He had fought many battles such as this before), he most certainly was not looking forward to it. He had spent a few hours talking with Aragorn, asking about his journey with the other members of the Fellowship. To his surprise, it turned out that Aragorn and his group had been only a few steps ahead of them in Moria! Berethor wanted to slam his head on the table from the irony of it all, but knew that if he did, Aragorn might think him insane.

Aragorn told Berethor that, on his way back to Helms Deep after his fall in the river, he had seen the Uruks that were approaching. There were some thousands coming- An army like that hadn't been seen since the Second Age. With each detail, Berethor felt the weight of increasing dread on his shoulders.

It was a dismal lot that filed into the armory to get weapons and armor in the evening. Berethor saw old men, young men, and- to his horror- _boys_. Boys- no, _children_- that couldn't have been older than thirteen or so. Some of them barely looked as though they could hold a sword, much less wield one. Is this what King Theodan had been reduced to? Ordering children to fight? Berethor was stunned by the injustice of it all- the young boys would never last the night.

In the armory, Berethor found his companions. They, too, were quiet and austere with knowledge of the impending battle. Elegost and Hadhod regarded him with a heavy nod as they put on their armor, Berethor responding with a light wave. Morwen did not acknowledge him; She simply strapped on her chest plate and kept her gaze level with the floor. Eaoden offered Berethor a weak smile, and Berethor forced himself to return it. Idrial was probably the only person in the armory that was all there. She was clearly alert- alert enough to ignore Berethor when he nodded at her.

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Women, Berethor thought, shaking his head. Apparently, Idrial had it in her head that Berethor was more interested in Morwen than he was in her. As much as he wanted to convince himself that wasn't true, there was always that little voice in the back of his head that said _"You know you like the girl better than the elf." _This voice was one of the other reasons Berethor felt the need to slam his head, several times, into something very hard.

Someone grasped his shoulder in a friendly manner, and he turned around to see Aragorn. The older man flashed Berethor the same, weak smile Eaoden had given him a moment ago. "How are you?" The Ranger asked, his voice strained to not sound depressed.

"All right. I'm all right." Berethor said. Maybe if he kept repeating it, it would be true. Oh, how he longed for it to be true.

"You're not nervous?" Aragorn said. Berethor shook his head. "And your companions?"

"They are depressed. Nervous, perhaps. I cannot speak for them." Berethor said. "Elegost, Hadhod and Eaoden seem to be holding up. Idrial and Morwen won't talk to… so I don't know how they feel." Berethor had been teetering on the edge of saying, "Idrial and Morwen won't talk to **_me_**," but did not feel like answering the questions that would undoubtedly come up. "And your companions?" he asked.

"As you said, I cannot speak for my companions, but they seem to be faring well." Aragorn said, glancing at Legolas and Gimli, who were sitting nearby.

"Have you noticed," Berethor said quietly, "That Theodan has chosen young men to fight? And I mean… _young_ men." Aragorn's face took on a look of unfathomable sadness.

"Yes. I have noticed." He looked at a small group of adolescent boys who were tentatively touching their swords. "Farmers, merchants, stable-boys- These are not soldiers." Berethor nodded in agreement.

"Some have seen too many winters," Gimli piped up from behind Aragorn.

"Or too little." Legolas said, a bitter bite in his voice. He glanced at the makeshift soldiers. "Look at them," He said, an unreadable emotion in his voice. It sounded like a cross between scorn and pity. "They're frightened." Legolas' words must have been louder than Berethor thought, because suddenly everyone was silent, and turned to look at the Elven Prince. What Legolas said next was in Elvish, so Berethor couldn't understand. However, Idrial, who had just come up behind him, could.

"_Boe a hyn: neled herain... dan caer menig_!" (And they should be. Three hundred… against three-thousand!) He said, and she caught the desperation in his tone. Apparently, her earlier words had no effect on him. He still did not believe that they had a chance of winning this battle.

"_Si beriathar hýn ammaeg nâ ned Edoras_,"(They have more hope of defense here than they did at Edoras,) Aragorn argued back in Elvish. Everyone, with the exception of Elegost (Who spoke enough elvish to keep up a conversation) and Idrial looked completely blank. It was obvious that the elf and the human were arguing… but about what?

"Aragorn," Legolas said sharply. "_Nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri. Natha daged dhaer!_"(They cannot win this fight; they are all going to die!)

"_Then I shall die as one of them!_" Aragorn roared, taking a dangerous step towards his companion. In an instant, the basis of the argument became painfully clear to everyone. Aragorn glared at Legolas for a moment longer, and then walked off. Legolas, a look of regret coming over his face, made to go after him. Gimli caught his arm and shook his auburn head.

"Let him go, lad. Let him blow off some steam." The dwarf advised. Legolas relented, and then quietly exited through another door in the armory to stop everyone from staring at him.

"Can you not feel the confidence in the room?" Hadhod muttered grimly, slipping a leather Vambrace on his arm.

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Morwen left the armory a few minutes later, moving in search of an uncrowded place to test her movement in the armor she now wore. There was a corner in the Dining Hall that was unoccupied, so she settled there. She pulled out her double axes off her belt, and swung them in an arc. She winced as the metal of her chest plate dug into her arms. She predicted that by the end of the night, the skin on her arms would be cut terribly. If, of course, she made it through the night.

In all honesty, Morwen did not care if she lived or died. She had nothing to lose, after all. Her family was dead, her village destroyed- She could not rely on thievery for the rest of her life. It's not like she could steal a house to live in. After reflecting on it a bit, death seemed rather welcoming to Morwen.

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Don't think like that! Something in her snapped. _Next thing you know, you'll be trying to kill yourself! What would your mother say?_ It growled. Morwen felt a rush of shame hit her. The vice was right- her mother would never have wanted her to sink into self pity. And most certainly, her mother would never have wanted her to die. Not after all they had been through.

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Snap out of it, Morwen, Morwen said to herself. _Snap out of it. You'll live to see a new day. You will. _She was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of a horn blowing. Ever muscle in her body chilled over. Were the Uruk-Hai here already?

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Eaoden wasn't certain what drew him up to the deepening wall. Perhaps it was because night had just fallen, and any minute now they could expect to see an army of unheard numbers approaching. Eaoden swallowed hard. He had been in scattered battles in Rohan with Orc parties amounting up to one hundred or so Orcs, but never over one thousand, brutally trained and somewhat more intelligent (Compared to Orcs) Uruk-Hai. While gearing up in the armory, Eaoden had the feeling his dinner would make a second appearance before the battle began.

Why, oh why, did King Theodan have to be so stubborn? Why did he have to back himself and his people into a corner from which there was no escape? Why couldn't he have sent for aid like Aragorn had suggested? Eaoden knew it was not his place to question his King's judgment, but this was ridiculous! Theodan might as well have painted an archery target onto the deepening wall and on the armor of the men who would defend it!

Just then, Eaoden spotted something. A column. A marching column of what appeared to be soldiers. Eaoden squinted, trying to see the symbol on their flag, though they clearly were not Orcs. Several other soldiers along the wall took notice.

"Open the gates!" A voice called. A horn was blown, and the column marched up the bridge into Helms Deep. Eaoden's suspicions were confirmed. They were not Orcs. They were Elves.

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Idrial's head jerked up when she heard the horn. She knew that horn. She could have identified it from one hundred other ones. It was the sound of the horn of Lothlorien- her home. Leaping up from where she had been resting, she bolted up to the entrance of Helms Deep. Many people had already gathered; including most of her companions, along with Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas. King Theodan was present also. At the head of the line was Haldir- he was one of Idrial's better friends.

"I have a message from Lord Elrond of Rivendell," He said smoothly. "At one time, Men and Elves fought alongside together, as equals." He looked over at Aragorn. "We come to honor that alliance." Aragorn grinned, and to Haldir's clear surprise, went up and hugged him.

Idrial scanned the Elven warriors for her brother, Aranel. To a stranger's eye, all of the elves looked the same, with their warrior cloaks on and sleek silver bows, but Idrial had learned to tell the difference between the elves. She could pick out one specific warrior from this group and identify him without having to see him without the cloak. She spotted Aranel in the middle row, on the far right. He did not see her, and she knew better than to call out to him like a child while he was at attention.

Haldir and Theodan conversed briefly about the position of the elves on the wall, and Haldir directed his troops to their positions. With a jolt, Idrial realized that it wouldn't be long until the Uruk-Hai arrived. She fingered her sword hilt for a minute, and then went up to Haldir. She waited for him to finish giving orders until she spoke.

"Mae Govannen (Welcome), Haldir." Idrial said, bowing. Haldir smiled.

"Hello Idrial." He greeted. "How are you?"

"I am well. Thank you for coming to our aid- We certainly need it." She said. Haldir cast a glance at the soldiers drifting around.

"So I see." He murmured, raising an eyebrow at a young boy that walked by with a helmet that fell over his eyes; An older soldier quickly moved to push it up before the boy could crash into a wall. "Your brother is positioned along the far left of the deepening wall, if you'd like to see him before battle." Idrial nodded.

"Thank you." She said. Suddenly, Idrial felt her stomach flutter. Maybe it had been the fact that she hadn't eaten in a while. Maybe it was because a strong gust of wind blew by. Or maybe it was because that on that wind gust, Idrial could have sworn she heard an Orc horn.

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Elegost could see the army before he could hear them. There was a crash of thunder, and Elegost winced. _Oh Eru,_ He groaned in his head. _Please don't let it rain._ _Please._ So, of course, the next second, a downpour started. It was almost comical, watching the soldiers standing at attention as the rain soaked their armor. _Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop. Plop._ The humor was quickly rubbed out when the torches from the Uruk-Hai army got closer.

Elegost glanced to his right, where he saw Berethor with his sword bared. The Gondorian was frightfully stiff, and looked very much like a statue. And with good reason- Elegost could not see an end to the Uruk-Hai army yet. Looking away from the younger man, the Ranger looked to the trio to his left. Hadhod was next to him; then there was Legolas and Gimli.

"Could have picked a better spot, Elf." Gimli griped. He and Hadhod were unable to see over the deepening wall.

"Yes, Ranger, you too could have chosen a more efficient place for us to be placed." Hadhod growled. Elegost smiled.

"A lower place, perhaps?" He whispered, poking a bit of fun at the dwarf. With a sinking feeling, he realized that this may be the last time he would ever joke with his friend. The sound of marching Uruk-Hai was making his stomach flutter- such a feat had not taken place in at least two decades for him.

It seemed to take an eternity for the Uruk-Hai to reach the wall; though eternity really only lasted about two minutes. They stopped- along with the soldiers hearts.

A Captain Uruk-Hai that stood atop a large boulder let out a savage cry, and the army came to a halt. For one minute, there was silence other than the pattering of rain on armor. The Uruk-Hai Captain let out another terrifying cry, and the first row of the army slammed their spears into the ground. This started a wave across the rest of the army- all of the other Uruks began to slam their weapons into the earth, creating a slight shaking sensation in the ground.

"_Eruchin, ú-dano i faelas a hyn_,"(Show no mercy) Aragorn was yelling to the Elven warriors. "_An uben tanatha le faelas_!"(For you shall receive none!)

"They strike to intimidate us," Elegost muttered to Hadhod. "To show us that there are too many of them to defeat." Hadhod growled slightly, and attempted to look over the wall again.

"It'll take more than a few Uruks banging their spears to intimidate me." He snarled.

"What's happening out there?" Gimli was saying. He, like Hadhod, was jumping up and down trying to see over the wall.

"Shall I describe it to you?" Legolas asked. He turned to Gimli. "Or would you like me to find you a box?" Gimli laughed sarcastically, and relented in his jumping. Just then, there was silence. An Uruk-Hai in the front row fell forward, dead. Someone had let off an arrow. Clearly, the Uruk-Hai were not pleased.

"DARTHO!" (HOLD!) Came Aragorn's voice. But it was too late. A second later, the Uruk-Hai captain let out another shuddering cry. The Uruks followed suit, letting out their own war cries, and charged at the wall, spears raised high. ((Prepare to fire!)) Aragorn called. The soldiers with arrows aimed their weapons as accurately as they could. Elegost chose a random Uruk, aimed at it, and awaited the order to fire.

"_Faeg i-varv... dîn na lanc a nu ranc_."(Their armor is weak at the neck… and beneath the arm.) He heard Legolas say.

"_Tangado a chadad_!"(RELEASE THE ARROWS!) Aragorn roared. Elegost, along with one hundred others, fired at the army. There were so many of the Uruk-Hai that, even if you missed the one you were aiming for, there was an excellent chance you'd still kill something.

"Did they hit anything?" Gimli yelled. From another part of the deepening wall, Theodan commanded another volley of arrows. Aragorn quickly followed suit. A number of Uruk-Hai had reached the wall, and were now firing up at the Elven and Rohirric soldiers. A few feet away from Elegost, a man was struck dead from a cross-bolt to the skull.

__

This will certainly be a pleasant battle, Elegost thought moodily as he pulled another arrow from his quiver.

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Berethor was certain he would have a heart attack when he felt a cross-bolt fly by his ear. He froze stiff and quickly released an arrow. Berethor could not recall ever using a bow and arrow before, and it felt quite awkward to him. There were many Uruk-Hai, so he didn't need to worry about not hitting something, but he was quite assured that he didn't have enough force in the release to kill.

That pit of dread from earlier was back, and it deepened into a black hole of dread when he saw the Uruk-Hai hauling ladders up to the deepening wall.

"SWORDS! SWORDS!" Aragorn yelled. Every soldier along the wall, in almost one synchronized motion pulled the swords from their scabbards. Berethor swallowed hard, and hardened his expression when he saw a ladder swing up and settle on a part of the wall no less than five feet away from him. An Uruk-Hai leapt of the top of the ladder with a mighty roar, and instantly killed a soldier in front of it with its spear.

Berethor realized that this was a Beserker- an incredibly strong and violent type of Uruk-Hai. _Eru, give me strength, _He thought as he ran forward to kill the next Uruk-Hai that came from the ladder.


	4. The Deepening Wall Falls

A/N: A special thank you to "Freak and Proud" for those kind reviews. They are what I live on. FOLLOW FREAK AND PROUDS LEAD, PEOPLE!

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The battle went on for about three hours, with neither side showing weakness. Only so many Uruk-Hai could fit on the ladders- and there were only so many ladders that could fit onto the deepening wall. Morwen was finding great sport in finding a ladder somewhere along the wall and kicking it off. It was very satisfying to hear the Uruks go crashing into their fellows.

That pit of dread in Berethor's stomach had all but faded, as he was now very caught up in crushing the Uruks skulls. Elegost was knocking Uruks off their ladders as the reached the top of the wall, using any nearby spare arrows, while Hadhod watched his back. Eaoden was spinning his spear like a madman, cutting into Uruk chests and necks, miraculously never hitting any of his fellow soldiers.

Idrial, also in the swing of the fight, was taking Legolas' earlier words to heart and striking at the underarm and neck of the Uruks, knowing their armor was weak there. On the edge of her hearing, she could hear Legolas and Gimli counting off the Uruks they killed. Apparently, Legolas was in the lead. Legolas and Aragorn were nearby, Gimli was farther along the wall.

That's when the battle took a turn in Saruman's favor. While pushing a ladder off the wall, Idrial noticed a strange event taking place below. Four Uruk-Hai were carrying two large, spiked metal balls, one between two Uruks. They were carrying the objects to the drain in the deepening wall. Idrial wasn't familiar with these objects, so she was temporarily distracted from the fight.

An Uruk came up behind her and raised its sword to strike her down. It would have succeeded if Legolas hadn't seen what was about to happen, and struck down the Uruk with an arrow. Idrial whirled around when Legolas grabbed her arm. "That thing almost killed you! What are you looking at?" He called over the clash of swords. Idrial pointed down to the Uruks.

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "What are they doing?" He muttered. Aragorn had also noticed the Uruks. He also noticed the Beserker that was running for the drain, a torch held high. It did not take long for the Ranger to figure out what was about to happen.

"Legolas! SHOOT HIM DOWN! KILL HIM!" He yelled. Legolas whipped out an arrow, took aim, and fired. The Beserker was hit in the shoulder. He let out a roar of pain, but ran on. Legolas ripped out another arrow, aimed, and fired again. This arrow hit the Beserker in the chest, but miraculously, he kept running. This amazed Idrial, seeing as how the Beserker wore no armor. The hits should have killed him easily.

The Beserker leapt forward into the drain.

A deafening explosion rang through the area.

Idrial went down hard, and felt someone else on top of her. Her vision was clouded with rock and dust as debris from the deepening wall slammed into the exposed parts of her body. The ground shook threateningly, and for a moment Idrial believed that it would cave in on itself. But it didn't. Parts of the deepening wall flew everywhere, crushing Uruks and humans and elves alike.

Such debris hit Hadhod, though thanks to his helmet and the size of the debris, he was not badly harmed. He and Elegost were knocked unceremoniously off their feet, and Elegost had to draw his cloak over his face so dust wouldn't get in his eyes. Morwen had to grab the still standing part of the deepening wall to stop herself from mimicking her friends.

Berethor, who was far enough down the wall not to tumble over, stopped with his sword raised. His eyes widened, and his mouth hung open dumbly. _What just happened? _He thought, swallowing hard. Eaoden was having a similar reaction to the explosion. He, like Berethor, was far enough away from the explosion that he didn't lose his bearings. But he still stared in shock as the deepening wall, the one thing he had believed was impenetrable, partially collapsed.

Eaoden received a painful blow to his shoulder as a punishment for his lack of attention, and he quickly remembered that the Uruks weren't going to stop coming just because the humans were losing. If anything, they would move faster and harder now. Back at the wall, the dust and debris was beginning to clear up. Idrial coughed as she inhaled the dust, greatly disliking the chalky feeling it left in her throat.

She turned over a bit, and saw that it was Legolas that had landed partially on top of her. He followed Elegost's lead from earlier and pulled his cloak over his and Idrial's faces so the dust wouldn't affect them. "Are you all right?" He coughed.

"I am fine. You?" Legolas pulled himself off Idrial and helped her up.

"A slight hit to the head- nothing to be worried about." He muttered, rubbing the side of his head. They both looked down at the ruined wall, seeing that many soldiers had been caught in the explosion. Their bodies littered the ground around the explosion sight. Idrial swallowed hard when she realized that several elven warriors were among the fallen.

But the other thing that drew Idrial's attention was the numerous amount of Uruks that were now spilling through the destroyed wall. Aragorn was one step ahead of her, though. He already had the soldiers in a defensive stance behind him. "CHARGE!" He roared, and the men let out cries and ran forward to meet the Uruk-Hai.

Gimli, caught up in the fight already, let out a battle cry in his own Dwarvish language and leapt off one of the remaining parts of the deepening wall, swinging his axe like a Dwarf possessed. Legolas looked momentarily amused at this, but quickly hardened his expression and acted. He grabbed a shield from a nearby body (Idrial shuddered when she realized it was an elf), stepped onto it, and slid down the steps to the new battlefield, shooting arrows as he went.

Idrial followed close after, taking a moment to think up a strategy. An idea struck her suddenly, and she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. She tried to see how much water was around the drain, and concentrated on it. (A/N: This I know the translation for, so I'll write it in elvish) "_Nîn o Chithaeglir, lasto beth daer, Rimmo nˆn Bruinen dan in Yrrch! Rimmo nˆn Bruinen dan in Yrrch! (Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word, flow waters of Loudwater against the Uruk-Hai! Flow waters of Loudwater against the Uruk-Hai!)(1)_ She cried, slashing her sword in the direction of the oncoming army.

The effect was startling.

The water flew up in a spiraling pattern, and suddenly came down on the Uruk-Hai. Violently, I might add. _Very_ violently. As in, Aragorn, the man who had killed countless Orcs in his lifetime, winced when he heard the bones of the Uruk-Hai cracking. Elegost, who had been firing off arrows from his perch on a stable section of the wall, whistled appreciatively. "Good shot, Idrial." He commented.

Idrial smiled, but knew she couldn't pull off that little stunt again. Though she didn't dare show it on the outside, she was weary. The force of the magic that she had just used had sapped a good deal of energy. She discreetly leaned against the wall for a moment, and then immediately snapped back to action. Morwen had appeared during the attack, and was now furiously hacking away at any Uruk that got within seven feet of her.

"She did not lie when she said she had wrath," Hadhod muttered to Idrial as he passed her, hefting his axe. Idrial nodded. Her jealousy and anger towards Morwen was ebbing, however reluctantly, away. It was not her fault that Berethor had lost interest in Idrial…

This sudden thought spurred Idrial into a sudden, violent action, and she hacked the nearest Uruk to small, frightening pieces.

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(1): I know it isn't the Loudwater River, but bear with me, as Tolkien was not so specific as to say what the water in Helms Deep was.


	5. Falling Back

A/N: As you wish, Zelinia.

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The order came later into the night, as the Uruk-Hai continued to pour through the wall. "FALL BACK!" Theodan called, "FALL BACK!" Aragorn was calling it as well, swinging his sword through the air to get attention.

"NEVER!" Berethor yelled, cutting down another Uruk.

"You must fall back!" Idrial called, carefully avoiding the men that were retreating to the safety of Helms Deep. "Give up this fight!"

"They've broken through," Aragorn said, grabbing the Gondorian's arm. "We have to retreat. Haldir! Fall back!" He called, turning up the top of the deepening wall. Haldir looked down, and nodded, now joining in the calls of "Fall back" that could be heard all around. An Uruk struck at Haldir suddenly, and it caught him off guard. He killed the Uruk, but it left a parting gift with the Elf that came in the form of a stab wound in his sword arm.

Haldir grimaced, and let out another "Fall Back" call, and went to turn around. THUMP. A Uruk collapsed toward him, and the elf quickly dodged it. Elegost stood nearby, his bow pointed at the spot where the Uruk had been. He had stopped it from killing Haldir.

"_Hannon le_,(1)" Haldir muttered, wincing at the strain of keeping his arm straight. Elegost nodded.

"Go, my friend. I will cover you while you get into the Keep." He offered, pulling out another arrow. Haldir noticed that the Ranger must have grabbed many used arrows out of dead Uruk-Hai, as the arrow he held was bloody and worn.

Elegost kept his eyes out for any Uruks that looked to cut down the injured elf, and shot several of them just to let off energy. Haldir made it to the Keep alive, and Elegost lingered to cover the other soldiers escape into the Keep.

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About halfway up the stairs, Berethor turned and stopped. "I do not fear them," He hissed, pulling out his sword again. "I fear nothing." He ran back down the stairs and began to kill the Uruk-Hai again. This time, he seemed to have the wrath of the Valar themselves in him, as he moved with such grace, and struck with such power, that the Uruk-Hai seemed to try to avoid getting too close to him.

Morwen, who was on her way to the Keep, stopped when she saw Berethor's furious rampage. Out of all the battles she had seen him in, she had never seen him fight with such ferocity before. Not with the Warg packs, not with the Orcs, and not with the scattered Uruk-Hai they encountered on the plains of Rohan. It frightened her a bit.

"Berethor!" She called. The man did not respond. Morwen narrowed her eyes. She did not like being ignored. But she did also not like having her head ripped off, so she kept her distance from Berethor and his sword. "BERETHOR!" She called again. Berethor finally took notice of her, and he turned.

"What?" He yelled back, quickly turning to decapitate a Uruk.

"We're supposed to be falling back," She said, deciding it was safe enough to approach her friend. "What are you doing?" Berethor scowled.

"I'm not falling back," He said.

"That," Morwen said, cocking an eyebrow and slashing an Uruk's stomach, "Is apparent. But _why_ aren't you falling back?"

"Because I can still fight!" He snapped, killing another Uruk.

"Well, you're going to be fighting by yourself if you don't come already!" She snapped, equally irritated. He glared at the young woman, and she smirked. "I can be just as stubborn as you, Berethor, so don't play that game with me." Her face softened slightly (Though it hardened temporarily hardened as she jabbed her axe into another Uruk).

"Berethor, please, come. I don't want you to get hurt." She said, grabbing his arm. Berethor growled slightly under his breath, but finally gave in. He allowed Morwen to lead them into the Keep.

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At the main gate of Helms Deep, Theodan and his soldiers were frantically trying to barricade the gate with poles and wood. A spear came through the alarmingly large hole in the door, and jabbed the King in the chest. He gasped, and then growled with frustration. There was no way they'd be able to keep the door shut if the Uruk-Hai kept skewering his men with spears.

"King Theodan!" It was Aragorn. Gimli, Eaoden and Hadhod. "What can we do?" Aragorn asked breathlessly. Theodan thought for a moment.

"There's a side door," He said, nodding at the small door nearby. "If you could go out and hold off the army, we can barricade the main gate shut."

"How long do you need?" Eaoden asked.

"As long as you all can give me." Theodan said. Aragorn pushed open the door as quietly as he could, and the two men and two dwarves snuck onto the rocky ledge near the bridge. Aragorn and Eaoden peered around the corner of the building, and withdrew after doing a rough count of how many Uruks there were. Not too many. They could handle them.

"Let's go!" Gimli hissed. "Come on, we can take them!" Aragorn raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's a long way," He said innocently. Eaoden's brow furrowed, and he shot Hadhod a confused look. The Dwarf simply shrugged. Gimli glowered to himself for a moment, and then muttered:

"Toss me." Now Eaoden was _really_ confused.

"What?" Aragorn asked. Gimli grumbled.

"I cannot jump the distance. You'll have to toss me."

"Do we _want_ to know?" Hadhod cut in. Aragorn smiled.

"I'll tell you later," He said. He grabbed Gimli's arms and made to toss him, when Gimli stopped him.

"D… don't tell the elf?" He murmured.

"Not a word." And with that, Aragorn tossed Gimli across the distance between the ledge and the bridge. The Dwarf went into instant slaughter mode, and cut down every Uruk that came at him. Aragorn followed after. Eaoden turned to Hadhod, his face dead serious.

"Need me to toss you?" He asked, maintaining the look. Hadhod glared at him.

"Don't push your luck, Outrider. Don't push your luck." Eaoden jumped onto the bridge as well, closely followed by Hadhod.

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Idrial and Legolas were still on the deepening wall, trying to get the soldiers into the Keep. It wasn't easy, trying to wave the soldiers to safety and keep themselves from being mutilated at the same time. Idrial blocked a particularly hard blow to the head with her sword, fended off her attacker, and then decapitated him.

"Idrial!" Legolas called. "We have to fall back soon- the Uruk-Hai will overwhelm us if we linger here!" Idrial instantly agreed, as she would not mind taking a break from the endless clashing of swords and shields. It was giving her a splitting headache. She turned to look over the wall- and froze. Legolas found himself cutting down yet another Uruk-Hai that was about to kill Idrial.

"You really must stop doing that," He muttered. "Now what are you looking at?"

"Our friends are either attempting a plan," She said. "Or they think that they can cut down the army by simply killing the ones on the bridge. Either way, I am certain they have lost their minds if they think they'll last long down there."

Being elves, and therefore having Elvish hearing, the reason Aragorn, Eaoden, Gimli and Hadhod were fighting became clear quite quickly.

"Aragorn! The door is barred! Get out of there!" They heard Theodan yell. Legolas grabbed a rope once used by an Uruk-Hai, and called to Aragorn. The Ranger turned. Legolas dropped the rope, and Aragorn grabbed onto it, quickly followed by Eaoden and the two Dwarves. Legolas and Idrial, covered by a few soldiers, pulled the rope up inch by inch while trying to avoid letting it break.

After hauling for a minute or two, Legolas was able to reach down and grab Aragorn's arm and pull him up. Together, while Idrial held the rope in place, they pulled up the others and quickly made for the Keep, calling for the other soldiers to follow. Elegost was still at his post, shooting off arrows and covering the soldiers escape. He ushered his friends and some other soldiers in, looked around for any others that lingered, and then shut the door.

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Inside, injured soldiers littered the halls. With a shudder, Morwen realized that many of the men that lay on the ground were dead. She had seen much death in her relatively short life, and she could certainly recognize it by now. Currently, Morwen and Berethor were trying to reinforce the other doors that led to the Keep. Unfortunately, they were also failing.

They could see a red sky out the window, and knew that dawn was approaching. According to Idrial's elvish philosophy, there would be a red sun rising as well. A sure sign that blood had been spilled during the night. Speaking of the _Elleth_ (2), she was running back and forth with a reserved look on her face, bringing reinforcements for the doors.

"They are going to break in." Theodan said, his voice hollow- broken, even. With the King in a state of hopelessness, Aragorn took charge.

"Is there no other way for the women and children to get out of the caves?" He said to Theodan. Theodan turned to him.

"No. They will get in…" He said, his eyes glazed slightly. Elegost raised an eyebrow.

"This is their King?" He muttered ever so quietly to Hadhod. Hadhod nodded slowly, agreeing with Elegost's unspoken judgment of King Theodan. Now Aragorn turned to Gamling.

"Is there no other way?" he asked urgently. Gamling nodded.

"There is a passage that leads into the mountains," He said. "But they will not get far- the Uruk-Hai are too many." Aragorn shook his head.

"Tell the women and children to make for the mountains, and barricade the entrance!" He ordered. Clearly, Gamling wasn't about to argue. He quickly went to carry out the orders. Nearby, Theodan turned to Aragorn.

"So much hate. What can men do against such reckless hate?" Aragorn seemed to think for a moment. His train of thought was clearly broken when a reinforcement Eaoden and Legolas were holding against a door was knocked away with a loud bang.

"The sun is rising," Gimli noted. Aragorn turned to the window, where the first beams of daylight were streaming in. _Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day… At dawn, look to the East._ Gandalf's words reverberated in Aragorn's head. He then turned back to Theodan.

"Ride out with me," He said. Theodan looked up, and his focus returned a bit.

"For death… and glory." Theodan muttered. Aragorn put his hand on the King's shoulder.

"For Rohan," He said. "And your people." Theodan suddenly looked renewed.

"Yes," He said determinedly. "The Horn of Helm Hammerhand will sound in the Deep. One last time!"

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(1): "Thank You"

(2): A female elf


	6. Forth Eorlingas and Saruman's Demise

A/N: I was wondering if someone would ask about Aranel. Good observation, Zelinia. Thank all of you for the wonderful reviews!

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"Yes!" Gimli said, turning and disappearing up a set of stone steps. Theodan ordered the horses to be brought out, and all soldiers mounted one. Those who couldn't armed themselves with the strongest shields, swords, and determination that they could and prepared to charge out behind their King. The soldiers moved away from the main gate that led to the bridge.

Berethor glanced around at his friends, and then stiffened himself and prepared for the onslaught. Elegost had his bow at the ready, Hadhod seated on the horse next to him with his axe raised and its owner ready. Idrial was looking straight ahead, her gaze fixed on the door ahead. She seemed rather determined to blow off as many Uruks as she could. Morwen had her double axes hefted and ready, with one hand holding both an axe and the reigns of her horse. Eaoden's spear was raised, and pointed at the door. Berethor greatly hoped the man in front of Eaoden did not come to a sudden stop for any reason.

Somewhere above them, a deep horn rang out. The Horn of Helm Hammerhand.

"Forth Eorlingas!" Theodan roared, and the main gate broke open, Uruk-Hai quickly spilling in. Theodan and the soldiers charged forward, their vigor renewed, and killed the Uruks before they could do any harm. The remainders of the gate splintered as the riders charged down the bridge, swinging at the Uruk-Hai that were not quick enough to move. At the bottom of the bridge, Aragorn looked to the East.

A White Rider on a pure white stallion stood at the top of the incline that led to Helms Deep. "Gandalf…" Aragorn whispered. Gandalf looked down at the two armies, which, in spite of themselves all turned to look.

"Theodan King stands alone," He said. Eomer appeared next to him, his sword drawn.

"Not alone," He said softly. His voice hardened. "ROHIRRIM!" He bellowed. Hundreds of soldiers appeared behind the two riders, all heavily armed, and not looking very tired. "To the King!" He called, raising his sword high. The Rohirrim and Gandalf charged down the slope, the wizard holding his staff high. A blinding light hit the valley, and the Uruk-Hai faltered in the light. Their spears were withdrawn for a moment.

Just then, the Riders of Rohan slammed into the army with a force that shook the very foundation of the valley. The combined force of Theodan's troops and Eomer's Riders was enough to scare the once fearless Uruk-Hai army witless. Seeing no other option, the Uruks that could get by the Riders charged up the slope and away from Helms Deep.

The soldiers followed them, intent on killing the rest of them before they could escape. When Berethor and everyone else reached the top of the slope, they were met with a surprise- there was a forest where the plains of Rohan should have been!

"What is this?" Eaoden asked.

"Stay away from the trees!" Eomer yelled. "Everyone stay out of the forest!" Berethor and Morwen exchanged looks. But the reasoning behind Eomer's words was soon clarified. When the last Uruk had disappeared into the forest, there was a terrible groaning noise. It took Berethor a moment to realize that it was the forest that was groaning.

Seconds later, screeching Uruks could be heard as they met a rather painful death from the Ents of Fangorn Forest.

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Idrial had known that the clean up from the fight was going to be long and messy, but it would be worth it. She had found her brother earlier on, and could rest easier removing the elven bodies knowing that Aranel was not among them. He and the other elves of Lorien were expected back in Lothlorien, so she only got a quick goodbye before he left.

Aranel told her that they had to leave because the Orcs of Mordor were assaulting Lothlorien every other day, and that the only reason they were not all dead was because Lady Galadriel foresaw all of the attacks, and they were able to counter them. Idrial regretted not being able to spend much time with Aranel, since she hadn't seen him since he aided them at the Emnet Gullies.

While wandering around the carnage, she met Legolas again. He smiled at her. "Good. There are no more Uruks, so you are free to let your mind wander without the danger of being killed." Idrial glowered at him for a minute, and then reluctantly allowed herself to smile back. "I see you are bad at staying mad at people." He said.

"No, actually I'm not. Ask my brother, he'll tell you that I'm quite good at holding a grudge when I want to," She replied. Legolas barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"I'm looking for Gimli. Have you seen him?" Idrial pointed over his shoulder to the Dwarf, who was smoking contentedly while sitting on a rather large Uruk-Hai. Legolas turned around and approached Gimli. Idrial followed, curious. Legolas examined his bow for a moment, and said:

"Final count… Forty-two." He said. Gimli let out a puff of smoke.

"Forty-two, you say? Well, that's not too bad for a pointy-eared elvish-princeling." Legolas looked up apprehensively, and Idrial felt the corners of her mouth turn up. So this is what they had been counting during the fight. "I myself am sitting pretty on forty-_three_." The dwarf said smugly. Idrial's glance flitted to Legolas.

The Prince suddenly whipped out an arrow, and shot the Uruk Gimli was sitting on. "Forty-three." Legolas corrected.

"He was already dead," Gimli grunted. Legolas' eyes narrowed.

"He was twitching." The Elf protested.

"He was twitching," Gimli began, "Because he's got my axe imbedded- in- his- nervous system!" He snapped, jerking his axe up and down, making the dead Uruk twitch and jump. Idrial suddenly found that she could not hold back the gale of laughter that had been threatening to surface for some time.

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Berethor, Idrial, Elegost, Hadhod, Morwen and Eaoden accompanied Gandalf, Gimli, Legolas, Aragorn, Theodan, Eomer and Gamling to Isengard to see what had become of Saruman. When they reached the one beautiful country, Elegost's jaw dropped. Isengard was, in all senses of the word, destroyed. Maimed. Mutilated. The mother of all messes.

And in the middle of it all, set atop a pile of debris were two little Hobbits. One of them was asleep, and the other was wide-awake and smoking a pipe. The conscious one grinned and leapt to his feet. "Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!" He called, giving a kick to his companion, who instantly snapped awake. "Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took at your service!"

"You little rascals!" Gimli called, though he was clearly happy to see the two, as were Aragorn, Gandalf and Legolas.

"Where is Saruman?" Berethor asked the Hobbits. "We would much like to have a word with the _'Great White Wizard'_." He said, using Saruman's title mockingly. The once-sleeping Hobbit, apparently named Pippin, grinned, and jerked his thumb towards the Black Tower of Orthanc.

"He's being guarded by Treebeard. Though I'm not quite sure why he'd want to leave- Isengard is such a friendly place now that it's under the management of the Ents, don't you think Merry?"

"Oh yes, most definitely Pip. Most friendly indeed." Aragorn rolled his eyes visibly and motioned for Pippin to get on his horse, while Merry climbed on behind Eomer. The Tower of Orthanc seemed a lot bigger, and much more foreboding up close.

"Be careful about what you do and say- even in defeat, Saruman is still dangerous." Gandalf warned. Gimli snorted.

"Then lets just have his head and be done with it!" He snapped.

"I agree," Morwen said coldly.

"No," Gandalf said in a soft but forceful voice. "We need him alive."

"Why?" Hadhod muttered. "I see no ruddy use for him." Gandalf turned to the Dwarf.

"We need him to talk, Hadhod." He said. Eomer growled.

"Knowing what his voice can do, I suspect it will do more harm than good." He grumbled.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called. A White figure appeared at the top of the tower: Saruman, once the most powerful wizard in Middle Earth. Morwen hissed audibly, and Berethor didn't blame her. Saruman held almost all the responsibility for her parent's murders.

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theodan King, and made peace afterwards." Saruman said. Everyone instantly went tense. "Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Morwen growled.

"You dare- you _dare_- to ask for peace after all the people you _slaughtered_, you vicious, conniving-" She snarled.

"Morwen!" Gandalf said sharply. "Be silent!" Morwen settled down into a moody silence. Theodan looked up at Saruman.

"We shall have peace." Everyone looked at Theodan with astonishment. What was he doing? "We shall have peace, when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there!" Saruman looked taken aback- Morwen had a look of grim satisfaction on her face. "We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged!"

"When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows-" Morwen smirked at that idea."-We shall have peace." Saruman glared at the King.

"Gibbets and crows!" He hissed. "Dotard!" He then turned to face Gandalf. "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? No, Let me guess-" The snide tone of Saruman's voice made Berethor sick. "-The Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the Keys of Barad-Dur itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and rods of the five wizards!" He cried. No one looked too pleased.

Eomer and Morwen looked as though they would gladly rip off Saruman's mouth, if only to stop his insane speech. Idrial, Aragorn and Legolas looked angrily at Saruman speaking to Gandalf in such a way. Berethor, Eaoden, and everyone else looked ready to attack Saruman, as they were all expecting him to do. Theodan had a look of righteous fury on his face, but Gandalf, strangely enough, looked calm. He straightened up and looked at Saruman.

"Your treachery has cost many lives." He said. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman! You were deep in the enemies counsel." Eaoden groaned when he now realized Gandalf's intentions.

"This was a waste of a trip- He will tell us nothing." He groaned. Saruman smirked sardonically, showing off his not-so-white teeth.

"So you have come for information. I have some for you," He said coolly. Elegost sighed.

"And here comes the ridicule." He said. Eomer nodded in agreement. To their surprise, Saruman whipped out a black sphere with a glowing red light in the middle of it.

"The Palantir," Idrial whispered. Her eyes were wide, and only she and Gandalf seemed to fully understand what the Palantir was.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth," Saruman said, looking into the Palantir. "Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." Berethor noted the deranged look on Saruman's face, and turned to Gandalf.

"Perhaps we should move back a step or two," He suggested. Gandalf shook his head.

"Do not move." He commanded.

"Even now, he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." The Wizard said. Gandalf slowly nudged Shadowfax forward, and signaled the others to stay put. Saruman grinned in a most evil manner. "You are all going to die." He hissed.

On the back of Eomer's horse, Merry shuddered involuntarily. Suddenly a bit more nervous, Elegost pulled his horse back a bit. Eaoden followed suit. Aragorn stared up at Saruman with a neutral look on his face. "But you know this, don't you Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." Saruman continued. Pippin sighed.

"Doesn't this man ever be quiet?" He muttered. Morwen, still in an irritated and moody state, nodded in agreement.

"Indeed," She muttered. Berethor looked mad on his new friend's behalf. How dare Saruman speak of Aragorn like that? King or no King, he deserved respect.

"This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King!" Saruman sneered. "And Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him- those he professes to love. Tell me, Gandalf, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom?"

"The path you set him on can only lead to death!" Saruman snarled.

"I'VE HEARD ENOUGH!" Gimli barked, drawing attention to himself. "Shoot him, Legolas! Stick an arrow through his head!" Legolas, only too willing to oblige, reached for an arrow.

"No!" Gandalf said sharply, and Legolas stopped. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared." Morwen let out a shriek of rage.

"You would let him live after all that he's done?" She snarled at Gandalf. "I say we should stick with King Theodan's idea- I'd love to see this b-stard hang." Saruman snorted.

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" Idrial yelped as Saruman cast a jet of flame from his staff at Gandalf. The fire engulfed the wizard, and Berethor gasped. But the fire died down, and Gandalf emerged unharmed.

"Saruman!" He yelled, his voice a bit raspy. "Your staff is broken." The staff in Saruman's hand exploded before their very eyes, and the White Wizard was enraged. Just then, a pallid looking man in black appeared next to Saruman.

"Grima Wormtongue!" Morwen gasped. Her face then hardened. "Not much of a surprise- rats do often live in the same pack!" But then Theodan spoke next.

"Grima," He called. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down!" Saruman looked back at the now fidgeting Wormtongue and gave a bitter laugh.

"A man of Rohan?" He repeated sourly. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?"

"You son of a-" If Morwen was mad before, she was livid now, as was Eaoden, Theodan, Eomer and Gamling. A silencing look from Gandalf was the only thing that kept Morwen from finishing her sentence.

"The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you, Theodan Horse-Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires." Grima was looking from Saruman to Theodan, as though torn about which to obey.

"Grima," Theodan said quietly. "Come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman snapped. "He will never be free!"

"No," Grima spoke. Saruman whirled to face him.

"Get down, worm." He snapped, hitting Grima to the ground. His servant let out a cry of pain.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called again. "You were deep in the enemies counsel; Tell us what you know!" Behind Saruman, no one saw Grima unsheathing a knife from under his coats.

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided!" Saruman said. "I will not be held prisoner here!" Grima came up behind Saruman, grabbed him, and stabbed him hard in the back, several times over. Taking his cue, Legolas strung an arrow and fired. It hit Grima in the stomach. He fell over, dead. Saruman, however, fell backwards off Orthanc, plummeting down until-

**__**

SNAP.

…He landed on the pike of the spiked wheel at the base of Orthanc.


	7. Celebrations and Nighttime Strolls

Author's Note: Again, thankies for all of the LOVELY reviews! And to Jedi Padfoot about the romance between Legolas and Idrial- Maaaaaybe, Maaaaaaaabye not. (Grins evilly)

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Merry gasped and slapped a hand over his mouth. Pippin looked disgusted. Idrial, though she had seen worse things in her life, covered her eyes and turned away. Morwen's eyes widened, but she did not show happiness nor complete and utter shock. Berethor looked like he was about to be sick. Theodan, shocked, drew his horse back. Gandalf did not take his eyes from Saruman's body.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle Earth that still stands free." Gandalf said urgently. "The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he'll strike next." Suddenly, the wheel began to turn into the water, taking Saruman's impaled body with it. Eaoden calmly dismounted his horse, and began to retch. Berethor followed his lead.

Treebeard stomped up to them. "The filth of Saruman…" He wheezed in his slow, raspy voice. "…Is washing away. Trees… will come back to… live here. Young trees… Wild trees…" Suddenly, Pippin saw something glinting in the water. He carefully climbed off of Aragorn's horse towards it.

"Pippin!" Aragorn called. Pippin reached into the water… and carefully pulled out the Palantir. Gandalf rode up behind him.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard puffed.

"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said in a commanding voice, making Pippin wince slightly. It didn't take long to remind him that Gandalf still had authority over him. "I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now," He added, when he saw Pippin staring at it. He leaned off Shadowfax a bit as Pippin handed the Palantir up to him. Gandalf quickly wrapped it in his robes.

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Later on, everyone had gathered back in Edoras. Theodan held his glass high, and said: "Tonight, we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail, the victorious dead!" He called.

"Hail!" The rest of the hall called out, also raising their cups and glasses. The celebrations then began. Men, women and children crowded the Golden Hall of Edoras, eating, drinking, and in Merry and Pippin's case, singing.

But to the side of the hall, a game was about to take place. "No pauses," Eomer was saying as Idrial approached the group of men. "No spills," The young man was passing out cups of ale to the men gathered around, including (Idrial was surprised to see) Legolas.

"And no regurgitation!" Gimli chimed in. Hadhod, who was sitting next to him, chuckled and patted his friend on the back. In all honesty, this was the first time since she met Hadhod that Idrial had seen him smile.

"Right. What's the point of playing if it's all going to come back up later on?" He said. The men laughed at that.

"So… It's a drinking game?" Legolas asked.

"Last one standing wins!" Gimli said. Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in his eye. "Though, laddie, I don't suppose you'd be up to it." He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I hear elves aren't up to drinking large quantities of ale. You certainly wouldn't be able to handle it, princeling." Legolas looked affronted. Idrial smiled.

"Are you going to take that lying down, Legolas?" She asked. Legolas jumped a good foot in the air when she spoke- clearly with all the noise, he hadn't realized that the _elleth_(1) was there. He turned to face her, and nearly dropped the cup in his hands. Gone was Idrial's traveling jerkin and breeches, in favor of a slightly low-cut dress that looked as though it were woven from fire. Her hair was down, she was cleaned up, and she adorned something of a tiara on her head. She looked stunning.

And in Legolas' eyes, very attractive. He swallowed for a minute, and realized that Gimli and Hadhod were still watching him, along with Eomer and the other men. "We will see who cannot hold their liquor," Legolas said smoothly, taking a sip from his cup. Idrial smiled and sat down across from Gimli and Hadhod.

About thirty minutes into the game, Gimli was speaking complete nonsense. "It's the dwarves that go swimming with little hairy women," Gimli jabbered, shaking in his seat. Idrial shot an amused look at Legolas, who smiled briefly. He, in the true elven fashion, showed no signs of drunkenness.

Suddenly, Legolas stopped, and examined his hand curiously. "I feel something." He said. Idrial and Eomer exchanged brief looks before turning back to the Prince. He looked at them. "A slight tingle in my fingers. I think it's affecting me," He said. Eomer raised an eyebrow at this, while Idrial looked rather concerned. Gimli slammed down another tankard and laughed drunkenly.

"What'd I say? He can't hold his liquor!" He slurred. He then promptly crossed his eyes and fell backward off his seat. Hadhod blinked, and then calmly put down his cup. If Gimli couldn't beat the elf, no one could. Idrial burst out laughing, and Legolas smiled quaintly.

"Game over."

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Merry and Pippin, meanwhile, had found their own calling. They did more then just drink. While everyone else was getting dead-drunk, they drank AND encouraged people to get drunk at the same time. It was truly the work of a couple of geniuses.

__

"Oh you can search far and wide

You can drink the whole town dry

But you'll never find a beer so brown

But you'll never find a beer so brown

As the one we drink in our hometown

As the one we drink in our hometown

You can drink your fancy ales,

You can drink them by the flagon,

But the only brew for the brave and true

Comes from the Green Dragon!"

And with the end of their song and dance, Merry and Pippin knocked their glasses together and drank while Eaoden picked himself off the floor. While doing their dance on the tables, one of the Hobbits had kicked a flagon of ale at Eaoden on accident and sent him sprawling(2). Pippin looked at the Outrider of Rohan and the bruise growing around his eye.

"Oops- sorry Eaoden. It was unintentional." He said. Eaoden waved it off.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," His voice was slightly slurred, and Elegost (Who was sitting right next to him) realized he was drunk. Or at least dangerously close to becoming drunk. Elegost did not want to have to worry about hangovers in the morning, so he only drank one cup of ale. _What fun,_ He thought. _Tomorrow morning, I'll be surrounded by men with hangovers. I'd rather face the Witch-King of Angmar._

A minute later, Berethor came and sat down in Eaoden's seat. The Outrider had gone to chat with a few of his fellows. "So," He said. "How are you this evening?" And again, Elegost could pick up the slight slur of the man's voice. But Berethor did not have a drink with him, and the slur wasn't that bad, so Elegost figured he'd only have a minor headache in the morning, if that even.

"Fine, Berethor. Just fine. And you?" Berethor gave his head a little shake, and he seemed more alert now.

"A little tipsy," He admitted. "But otherwise, I'm all right." He rubbed his head. "Although I broke a promise I made to myself after my twentieth birthday," He said. Elegost raised an eyebrow.

"And that was?"

"Well," Berethor said. "On my twentieth birthday, my father took me, my older brother and some of his friends to a bar. We had a few drinks, I got home, I was dead-drunk-"

"I hate to interrupt," Elegost said. "But where was your father?"

"Still at the bar with my brother and his friends. Drinking was like a hobby to him." A brief wince appeared over his face, and Elegost assumed that this one was not from the ale. "But anyway, I came home, it wasn't too late at night, and my sisters were still awake." His eyes narrowed. "They, being the little devils they are, recognized I was drunk and manipulated me to their will."

"And what precisely was their will?" Elegost asked, now seriously amused. Berethor winced again.

"Just as a note, the will of two eleven-year-old girls is not pretty. Though they claimed I was rather pretty looking." Elegost's eyes widened.

"They didn't… " He said.

"They did," Berethor said solemnly. Elegost tilted his head to the side to snicker in private, while Berethor groaned.

"I got an ear full of it from mother when I woke up the next morning with a hangover in my skull and rouge all over my face. I promised myself I'd never get drunk again. And yes, Elegost, laugh it up! So funny when it doesn't happen to you, hm?" Elegost stopped snickering at his friend's expense and straightened up.

"You're not drunk," He informed the Gondorian. "You're a little tipsy, but not drunk. Just don't drink any more ale and you'll be fine."

Just when Elegost thought the entertainment portion of the night was over, he discovered it was just beginning. You know what's funnier then a drunken Berethor getting rouge put on his face? A _very_ drunken Morwen coming over and plopping herself on Berethor's lap.

"'Ello Bertor! (hic) 'Ello Elgost!" She slurred. Berethor groaned.

"Oh Gods, Morwen, you're as drunk as a fish." He said. Elegost cast a glance to the corner where he saw Gimli asleep on the table; someone had moved him from the floor after he passed out.

"Or as drunk as Gimli." He muttered. "I will not envy you in the morning, Morwen." Morwen did something between a giggle and a hiccup, burying her head in Berethor's shoulder. Elegost snickered.

"I do think she's rather attracted to you, Berethor." He said. Berethor glared at him, and then pulled Morwen up so that their eyes met.

"Ah… Morwen? Exactly how many drinks have you had in the last hour?" He asked gently. Morwen seemed to think for a moment.

"Um… More than Merry… but less than Gimli!" She giggled. Berethor winced and looked over at Elegost, who still seemed highly amused at his friend's situation.

"Care to help?" Berethor muttered as Morwen squirmed, still on his lap. Elegost stopped snickering and sighed.

"There's really not much that can be done. She's going to have the mother of all hangovers in the morning though- you might as well get her to bed." He snickered again. "_Bertor_." Berethor made a face.

"Fine. I'll be back in a few minutes, _Elgost_." He drawled back. He made to get up, and then realized that the Rohirric woman was still on his lap. "Um, Morwen, could you please get off my lap?" Morwen made a sad puppy-dog face.

"Do I have to?" Elegost was roaring with laughter by now, attracting the attention of several bystanders. Berethor blushed.

"Yes, Morwen, you have to. I bringing you to bed." Morwen's pout reminded Berethor very much of his younger sisters expressions when they didn't get their way.

"But 'M not sleepy," She slurred as she stood up, crossing her arms. Berethor thanked any and all Gods listening that most of the people in the hall were drunk, or this would be terribly embarrassing. Grabbing Morwen's arm gently, he pulled her towards the sleeping accommodations for the evening. He found the makeshift bed with Morwen's supplies next to it, and settled her down in it.

"Just try to sleep, okay Morwen?" He muttered. Morwen looked at him for a moment, and then did something rather unexpected- She kissed him. On the lips. Not on the cheek, not on the forehead, on the lips. Berethor was certainly surprised by this, and reacted like any other red-blooded male in his situation would- he kissed her back. When they pulled apart, Morwen grinned drunkenly.

"G'night Beretor," She crooned. Berethor nodded, and felt severely disappointed when he realized that Morwen would probably not remember this tomorrow morning.

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While Berethor tucked Morwen in for the evening, Elegost found a new form of entertainment. If he had to deal with hungover men tomorrow, then at least he'd be able to enjoy the drunken men tonight. Eaoden was dancing around with Merry and Pippin, who had strummed up a new song, to the joy of many, many drunken men.

__

"Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go

To heal my heart and drown my woe.

Rain may fall and wind may blow

And many miles be still to go

But under a tree I will lie

And let the clouds go sailing by!" (3)

Though this song was shorter then the others, the men cheered all the same. This time, Pippin avoided kicking anything at some bystander, and Eaoden was still alert enough to stay away from the table as the Hobbits danced. Suddenly, Hadhod came out of nowhere and plopped down next to the Ranger.

"Ai, Ranger. What are you up to?" Elegost blinked.

"I thought you went and got yourself drunk with Gimli," He said. Hadhod shook his head.

"I gave up the drinking game after Gimli passed out. If he couldn't beat Legolas, I don't think I can. Besides- I've come to dislike hangovers." Elegost nodded.

"My sentiments exactly."

Speaking of Legolas…

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The elven prince was currently outside, walking with Idrial. They had grown tired of the noise and wished to experience some actual quiet. Since most of Edoras was at the Hall, it seemed the best place to explore. Idrial had her cloak on, with the hood pulled up. Legolas could see her face only when she turned to look at him. They walked in silence for a moment, and then she spoke.

"Legolas," The prince turned. "How exactly did you become a member of the Fellowship?" She asked.

"I volunteered." Legolas responded. "Lord Elrond said that the Ring had to be taken to Mordor and destroyed. Frodo Baggins, the Ring-bearer, volunteered to take it. The rest of us just sort of fell in behind him." He paused. "What are your reasons for pursuing us, Idrial?"

"Berethor," She said. "He was looking for Boromir of Gondor. He was attacked by Nazgul in Eregion, and I drove them off. I was heading for Lothlorien, so we decided to travel together." Legolas did something of a wince.

"I'm afraid Boromir is-"

"-Dead. Killed in Amon Hen. Yes, I know- Berethor told us."

"I'm sorry."  
"It is all right." Idrial said. "When we got closer to Moria, we met Elegost and Hadhod." Legolas' eyes narrowed.

"Another thing that confuses me- Gandalf has told Aragorn, Gimli and I that your company traveled through Moria. How in the name of Eru did you get in? The way was completely collapsed behind us!" Legolas exclaimed.

"The Watcher in the Water." Idrial said coolly. "It attacked us and knocked the debris from the door." Her expression went dull. "But naturally, the door collapsed behind us as well, and we were trapped inside." Legolas chuckled.

"Naturally, of course."

"I had intended on staying in Lothlorien… but decided to stay with my friends. We ended up in the East Emnet Gullies, where we had to wander through a maze of rocks until we got to the Plains of Rohan where we met Morwen and Eaoden… and then we came to Helms Deep. You know the story from there." Legolas nodded.

"I trust you have encountered Orcs?" He asked. Idrial smiled wryly.

"Orcs, goblins, Wargs, Warg _Riders_, Uruk-Hai, Sea creatures, what haven't we faced?" She asked. Then there was silence. Idrial tilted her head down and began to play with the long sleeve of her gown. It was then that Legolas voiced what they both knew.

"You are uneasy." He said, stopping where he stood. Idrial stopped as well.

"Are you in any manner related to Lady Galadriel, Legolas?" She asked quietly, turning to look at him. Legolas shook his head.

"I am simply good at guessing moods from a person's outward demeanor." He said. "I am exceptionally good at interpreting silences." Idrial smiled. "So from your question, I take it that I am right?"

"Yes." Idrial said. She carefully reached up and removed her hood. The moonlight seemed to make her flaxen hair shine, and Legolas felt his heart skip a beat or two.

"What troubles you?" He asked gently. Idrial sighed and directed her gaze at the moon for a moment.

"My home is under attack. Lothlorien is being assaulted by the Orcs." She said. There was a distinct sadness in her voice, and Legolas felt a pang of sympathy for her. "My brother, Aranel, was in the army that came to Helms Deep. After the battle, he told me what was happening. The only reason my home has not gone up in flames is because of Lady Galadriel. She foresaw the attacks, and they were able to prepare."

"I fear of returning to my home. I fear that when I do, I will find death and destruction. I fear that…" Idrial could not bring herself to finish her sentence. Legolas carefully finished it for her.

"You fear Lothlorien will fall?" He asked. Idrial nodded.

"I fear that when I return, I will find the woods of Lorien burning, and the River Nimrodel dried. I fear I will find my kin slain." Legolas put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"The elves of Lothlorien are strong- they will endure, like they have in the past. You need not worry." He whispered. Idrial looked at him with unfathomable sadness in her eyes.

"I hope that you are right, Legolas. I truly hope that you are right."

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(1): Again, this is a female elf

(2): Remember the guy that got hit in the face in ROTK? Well, that was Eaoden.

(3): I don't own that song. JRR Tolkien does. (mutters something about "that darned genius")


	8. The Palantir incident and Taking Action

A/N: I got the element of Gimli's cure for hangovers from the book "Eragon". Sounds like a good enough cure to me. Again, thank you all for the kind reviews. I really want to finish this story, and I'm glad there are people who want me to.

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Most of the people in the hall returned to their homes and or their bedrooms for the night around two o' clock in the morning. Some, like Gimli and Eaoden, had to be dragged off by friends, spouses, siblings, parents or children. Gandalf and Aragorn hadn't drank anything, Legolas and Idrial were incapable of getting drunk, and Merry and Pippin had toed the line, but were still relatively sober. Elegost, Hadhod and Berethor did not drink anything more than what they already had, and Morwen had already been dragged off to bed.

Berethor pointedly did not tell anyone about Morwen kissing him, seeing as how Elegost would never let him hear the end of it, and telling Idrial would be pure suicide. He sensed coldness from her when he got within her field of vision. Berethor was still awake when all others had fallen asleep. Even though the most sober in the hall were asleep, he found it impossible.

Gimli was snoring so loud, Berethor thought that it was probably keeping Sauron awake in Mordor. Tomorrow, when they all awoke, Legolas would probably enjoy tormenting the dwarf about his noise. Smirking at the amusing image of the Eye of Sauron in a bed, wide open, grumbling about "Dwarves and their snoring", Berethor attempted to fall asleep. Somewhere behind him, he heard blankets ruffle, and someone stood up.

Berethor, now beginning to feel drowsiness overtake him, ignored it. There were footsteps that padded to the doorway, and faded away. In the next few minutes that followed, Berethor was in-between sleep and alertness, so he did not completely register what was happening. He heard a voice whisper:

"Pip?' What are you doing?"

"I just want to look at it."

"You'll get into terrible trouble."

There was a pause, in which rustling and footsteps could be heard.

"I just want to look. Just one look." There was another pause, and suddenly, strained noises reached Berethor's ears, pushing him slowly towards alertness.

"PIPPIN!" This shout pretty much awoke everyone in the hall. "HELP! HELP!" Berethor shot straight up and whirled his head around to see Pippin, holding the Palantir with a pained look on his face. The young Hobbit was shaking uncontrollably, and he was writhing in unimaginable pain on the stone floor.

A door at the side of the hall banged open and Aragorn and Legolas came shooting in. Aragorn attempted to take the Palantir from Pippin. But when he did, he fell into the same attack Pippin did, writhing on the floor and such. Legolas caught the Ranger before he could hit the floor, and the Palantir was dropped. It rolled across the cold floor towards the wall.

"GANDALF!" Elegost yelled, tossing his cloak to the wizard. Gandalf caught it, and threw it over the glass sphere. The wizard whirled to face Pippin and Merry.

"FOOL OF A-" He stopped dead when he saw Pippin, frozen stiff on the ground with Merry hunched over him. The Istar quickly pushed Merry out of the way and knelt down in front of Pippin. He muttered something under his breath while the rest of the hall looked on, most choosing to stand back. Eaoden quietly moved over to the covered Palantir, and made to lift the cloak.

"Do not touch it!" Idrial snapped. "Or do you wish to end up like Pippin?" Eaoden was only too quick to back away at the notion of becoming a living statue. There was a gasp, and suddenly Pippin snapped back. Berethor slowly walked over to see what was happening.

"Gandalf," Pippin whispered. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" He whispered.

"What did you see?" Gandalf said urgently. "Speak!" Pippin choked for a moment, and then whispered,

"I saw a tree… a tree in a courtyard of stone… it was dead." Berethor's eyes flashed strangely, but he said nothing. "And then… I saw him." Pippin's voice now came out as a terrified squeak.

"What did you say to him?" Gandalf pressed.

"He asked my name. I didn't answer. He… He hurt me." Pippin murmured.

"That explains the writhing." Elegost said.

"What did you tell him about Frodo and the Ring?" Gandalf asked. There was a dead silence.

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"There was no lie in Pippin's eyes," Gandalf said about twenty minutes later. He, Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Eomer, Theodan, Berethor, Idrial, Hadhod, Eaoden, Elegost and a very sleepy and disoriented Morwen were gathered in the Golden Hall. "A fool, perhaps," Pippin winced at this. "But an honest fool he remains." Pippin relaxed a little. "He told Sauron nothing of Frodo and the Ring."

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"We have been strangely fortunate," Gandalf continued. "While looking into the Palantir, Pippin caught a glimpse of the enemy's plan. Sauron's forces move to strike the city of Minas Tirith." Glancing over, Idrial saw Berethor close his eyes tightly. "He will strike swiftly, and with little warning. If the beacons of Gondor are lit, Rohan must be ready for war." Theodan stepped forward.

"Tell me," He said quietly. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours?" Berethor whirled and looked at King Theodan with a mixture of fear, anger and confusion on his face. This was his home they were talking about! His family was there! "What do we owe Gondor?"

"They must at least be warned! I will go!" Aragorn said.

"I will gladly accompany you, my friend." Berethor added.

"No," Gandalf said. He beckoned Berethor closer and muttered to the Gondorian and the Ranger. "You must come to Minas Tirith by a different road." He turned to the rest of them. "Things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith," He turned and fixed Pippin with a gaze that explained itself to all. "And I won't be going alone."

Pippin groaned.

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The next morning, much of Edoras was like the living dead. Elegost's prediction about being surrounded by hungover men had been quite correct. Most unfortunately for Morwen, Elegost was quite right about her having the "mother of all hangovers". She groaned and winced at every slight noise, and she hissed and recoiled at the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Gimli, whom was partially immune to hangovers (He had one but it wasn't very strong), decided it was time for Morwen to get up. "Lass," He said, giving the young Rohhiric woman a shake.

"Leave me alone." She mumbled, her voice muffled because of the blanket pulled over her head. "My head hurts."

"I know that, lass, and I intend to help you with it." He yanked the covers off her head and she half-groaned, half-shrieked in agony. "Hadhod! You got Eaoden up yet?" He called to the other dwarf. A few beds down, Hadhod was tugging mercilessly at Eaoden's blankets, trying to pull them off.

"Yes, but he isn't coming quietly!" He responded. Another few tugs, however, and the Outrider finally gave in and allowed himself to be dragged up by his companion. "Consider this pay-back for that wisecrack about tossing me to the bridge." Hadhod muttered.

"What do you two want?" Eaoden groaned as he and Hadhod walked (Or in Eaoden's case, stumbled) over to Morwen and Gimli.

"We want to ease your suffering." Gimli said.

"You mean you're going to have a load of horses trample and kill us? Because that sounds a lot less painful than this." Morwen mumbled, rubbing her temple with one hand and leaning on Gimli's shoulder with the other.

"No, Morwen. We're going to cure your hangovers." Hadhod said, grabbing Eaoden by his tunic and motioning for Gimli and Morwen to follow. They arrived in the courtyard of Edoras, and Eaoden suddenly went a strange shade of green.

"Excuse me," He murmured, ducking to the side and retching. When he emptied his stomach of last night's celebration, he returned to the others. Gimli sighed.

"Exact reason we brought them outside. We best be doing this quick, before Morwen gives us an encore." He muttered to Hadhod, who nodded solemnly in agreement. The older dwarf disappeared for a few minutes, and returned with four things: two buckets of water, a pail of milk, and a large bottle of brandy. He calmly picked up the first bucket, and walked over to Eaoden, who blinked.

"Hadhod, what are you-" SPLASH. Hadhod had dumped the water all over Eaoden. "BLOODY- WHAT THE H-LL HADHOD?" The Outrider roared. Morwen laughed hard, and then winced and grabbed her forehead at the pain this caused. Hadhod ignored Eaoden's spluttering and grabbed the other bucket. This time, he splashed it all over Morwen.

The young woman froze and promptly gasped as the water hit her. It was freezing. Now it was Eaoden who laughed, and it wasn't long before he had to stop like Morwen did. Gimli grabbed two tankards from nearby and filled them with milk. "Drink it," He muttered, shoving one at Morwen and the other at Eaoden. Soaking wet, the two Rohhirans slumped against the wall and did as they were told.

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Meanwhile, Gandalf and Pippin were about to go to Edoras. Merry and Pippin were following while Gandalf and Berethor led. "Gandalf," Berethor said. "I have to go to Minas Tirith. I was charged by Lord Denethor himself to find his son and check up on him, and I should be the one to tell him what happened." Gandalf shook his head.

"I said it earlier, Berethor. You and all the others must arrive at Minas Tirith by another road. Besides, we are talking about Denethor's firstborn son. He will be devastated by this news, and I do not want you to have to face his wrath. I will handle telling him the unpleasant news." Gandalf said. Berethor winced.

"But Gandalf-"

"Berethor, you are staying here." Gandalf then leaned forward conspiratorially. "And be on the look out for those beacons I told you about earlier. I don't care if I have to set Denethor aflame and throw him on the wood myself, those beacons shall be lit!" He vowed. "And you are better off here. Theodan will need every sword. Minas Tirith has plenty of soldiers to defend itself."

Berethor shifted uncomfortably. "All right." He muttered. "I will await the lighting of the beacons. But please, Gandalf-" he grabbed the Wizard's shoulder. "My family is in Minas Tirith. All I hold dear to me is in that city. Please do not let it fall." Gandalf offered a reassuring smile to the Gondorian.

"I will defend your home to my last breath, Berethor." Berethor nodded, still feeling a bit uneasy, and stood back as Gandalf climbed onto Shadowfax. He helped Pippin up behind the Istar, and Merry held up a bag of something to his cousin.

"Old Toby?" Pippin muttered, looking at Merry with sadness in his eyes.

"I know you've run out," Merry muttered, smiling a bit. "You smoke too much, Pip." He then stepped back from Shadowfax.

"Ride, Shadowfax. Show us the meaning of haste." Gandalf said, nudging Shadowfax's side.

"Merry!" Pippin yelped. Now there was pure, undiluted fear in the Hobbit's eyes. Then, Shadowfax was gone with a gust of wind and a bit of kicked up dust.


	9. The Trouble With Love is

Author's Note: (Sorry I didn't answer these last chap) Yes, I hope I finish the story as well. (I probably will). And yes, Freak and Proud, I suppose you could put it like that… More mushy-gushy romance stuff in this chapter kiddies. A little Berethor/Morwen never killed anyone.

CHEERS! I BEAT THE GAME! WOOT! (This is now very AU. I'm not following the game line. Completely, anyway.)

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For the next few days or so, Berethor, his friends, and the four remaining members of the Fellowship waited anxiously for any word on what to do. Berethor waited in particular unease- he was worried about his home. If Denethor refused to light the beacons and call for aid (and Berethor had a nasty feeling that he would), it could be the end of Minas Tirith.

So he waited, staring at the mountains beyond Edoras in hopes he would see a lit beacon. Due to his worry, Berethor got very little sleep. On the third day of his watch, there were bags under his eyes. Morwen, who had watched her friend sit and stare at the mountains for three days, had finally had enough of it.

She stomped out towards Berethor, a scowl set on her pretty features. "Berethor!" She barked. The Gondorian grimaced and turned around.

"Yes, Morwen?" He asked coolly, already suspecting the reasons for her attitude towards him. Morwen walked around him, arms crossed, and stood directly in his line of sight.

"You have been sitting out here," She said crossly, "For THREE DAYS! You have hardly eaten, you have hardly slept, you've hardly blinked, for the love of Elbereth!" Berethor had to bite his lip to keep from snickering. Morwen, the woman with the strength and occasional attitude of a Cave Troll (Though certainly with more brains) was nagging him about keeping watch!

"I am looking for-" He began to explain.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE LOOKING FOR!" She snarled, leaning forward and glaring dangerously at him. "But as I have just stated, it has been three days with no sign of Gondor calling for aid." Berethor's face fell. Another painful reminder that Denethor would be too stubborn to save his own people. Morwen saw the look on his face, and she softened a bit. Perhaps yelling wasn't the best route.

Sighing, the Axe-Maiden sat down next to Berethor. "I know how you feel, Berethor, for I feel it too." Berethor looked at her, a vague look of confusion on his face. "I was once a resident of Minas Tirith myself. My father was an advisor of Denethor."

Berethor's eyebrows shot up. "He was?" Morwen nodded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It never came up," She responded, shrugging. "My family was… banished from Minas Tirith when I refused to an arranged marriage." Berethor's eyebrows narrowed instantly.

"To whom, precisely?" He asked, a hint of resentment in his voice for the unknown man.

"I don't know. Which is exactly why I turned down the arrangement- when and if I marry, I'd prefer to be in love with the man first." She said smoothly. Berethor shifted his weight and sighed.

"Then you do know of my thoughts. I apologize for not thinking, Morwen." Morwen waved it off and looked away. There was a long, though not awkward pause.

"Will you get some rest then?" Morwen asked softly. "It's not like we're going to not tell you when the signal does come."

"All right," Berethor murmured. He took another look at Morwen, and it suddenly occurred to him exactly how close they were. A strange desire overtook him, his clear senses left him, and Berethor leaned forward and kissed Morwen. For one, stunned moment, the Axe-Maiden did not respond. She caught on quickly, though.

"Ahem." The two broke apart instantly, and whirled around to see Aragorn there. The Ranger was observing the couple with a high eyebrow. "Well, Morwen." Morwen blushed to the roots of her copper hair. "You told me you were going to convince Berethor to come in at all costs. Somehow it never occurred to me that you would try this method."

Morwen groaned and covered her increasingly red face with her hands. She muttered something along the lines of: "But he kissed me." Berethor carefully grabbed her arm and pulled the woman up, indicating he wanted her to come with him. Aragorn smiled knowingly.

"Ah well. I shall keep watch, Berethor, and report if anything happens." He said. Berethor mumbled his thanks and pulled Morwen, still hiding her face, back inside. When he was certain they were gone, Aragorn sat down, shook his head and snickered.

"Kids," he muttered.

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In the armory, Idrial was coolly examining her sword, and occasionally wiping off any stains she caught with her super-sharp vision. She had been meaning to get around to cleaning her sword after Helms Deep, but everything had been in such tumult that she had forgotten. A very seldom occasion for the Elleth. She had been thinking about so much, like Lothlorien, her brother, the fate of Minas Tirith, and a certain Elven Prince…

__

Stop that! She hissed at herself. _I can't think about him. I can't get interested in him. It'll just end like it did with Berethor- a pretty, charming young human will come along and he'll get completely enraptured with her, and I'll be left with a broken heart again. _She determinedly scrubbed at another stain on the sword. Idrial was quite certain her heart couldn't take another beating like that. Not again.

Though Idrial was not willing to admit it, her coldness towards Berethor was beginning to ebb away. The sore spot of his falling in love with Morwen was beginning to heal. And it terrified Idrial that this may have been because her feelings were now being directed towards another. She groaned inwardly. Of all the times to get these feelings, it had to be during a war when anyone could be killed. Idrial didn't dare trust a hope that these feelings would bring joy instead of sorrow.

"Hello Idrial." If not for the two Millennia of learned patience and control, Idrial probably would have fallen out of her chair and impaled herself on her sword. It was Legolas._ D-mn him,_ She thought bitterly, _He's the only person in Middle Earth that's capable of doing that. _She turned to the door. Legolas was there, sporting his usual brown and green clothing, though it did nothing to diminish the glow that being an elf granted him.

"Greetings, Legolas." She responded. "What brings you here?" Legolas hesitated before answering.

"I was simply walking around… and I wandered here." He said. The pause between his words told Idrial everything she needed to know. He had not simply been walking around aimlessly and happened upon her in the armory- he had been _looking_ for her. A charge of excitement and happiness hit the Elleth just then, and she furiously scolded herself. She was not some elfling with a silly infatuation. Oh no.

She was a full-grown Elleth, and she was in love. _Argh!_ Idrial shrieked in her head when that "L" word appeared in her head. _Never think of that!_ She snapped to herself. On the inside, she was tearing herself to pieces, but on the outside, she was calm, cool and collected. She raised a delicate eyebrow at the Prince.

"Wandering aimlessly around?" She asked. Legolas' cool though friendly expression wavered a moment, seeing his credibility was being questioned, but decided to keep up the cover until he was certain Idrial knew.

"Yes," He said. "There is really nothing else to do today." He was unbearably tense for a moment, thinking that any moment Idrial would ask why he was lying. But the other elf simply gave a small shrug and went back to her sword. Legolas relaxed, greatly relieved that Idrial had not seen through him. Or so he thought. Idrial, as was mentioned earlier, was quite aware that Legolas was lying to her. But she didn't dare think that he might be interested in her.

There's more to love than having a heart-to-heart while everyone else was off getting drunk.

But Idrial was beginning to read signs she didn't want to see- like the fact that Legolas had tensed after she had asked about his "wandering". Like he had been afraid she might guess he was lying? Maybe. Maybe not. Perhaps Idrial was simply imagining it all, because her own emotions were making quick work of her mental health. Legolas glanced around, and gestured to a chair near Idrial's.

"May I?" He asked.

"Go ahead," Idrial said lightly. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed him carefully. He was still tense. Perhaps she could have a little fun with this. "It's strange," She said, after a moment's pause. There. He twitched slightly. Idrial knew that, if he thought she was looking (She was currently pretending to look at her sword), he could and would have easily concealed it. "I was just thinking about you." There. Another twitch.

__

Elbereth, Idrial thought. _He's a wreck._ Mind you, since they live so long, Elves are able to master some control over the urge to make involuntary movements- like twitching. They also taught themselves how not to tense up so an enemy would not sense they were worried or afraid. So when Idrial saw these slight movements, she knew that Legolas was probably very agitated about something. Most likely, her (Though she did not admit this to herself).

"Really?" Legolas said, his tone cool and calm as ever. Idrial looked up and smiled serenely at him.

"Yes, actually. I wanted to thank you for what you said the other night." She responded, setting her sword aside. "It has truly calmed my nerves."

"It was nothing," He said, bemused. "I merely spoke the truth. Lothlorien was one of the first Elven cities in Middle Earth- It has endured the Kin Slaying, the first War of the Ring, and it shall endure this one." Idrial looked at her hands, which were folded neatly on her lap. She enjoyed the sincerity in his words. Another attribute she appreciated about him. Rarely did any man, Elf or dwarf speak with such honesty and confidence in his words.

She opened her mouth to respond, when suddenly yells could be heard from the entrance hall. The two elves turned to the door, and suddenly Elegost rushed in, looking breathless and excited.

"The call has come- Gondor calls for aid." He said, Legolas jumped up, Idrial following quickly behind him. Together, they went to the entrance hall where Aragorn was speaking quickly with King Theodan.

"Gondor calls for aid!" He cried. All eyes were then switched to the King. There was a breathless pause.

"And Rohan will answer it." Theodan said, nodding his approval.

"Yes!" Berethor, on the opposite side of the hall with Morwen, hissed. Then he caught Idrial's eye and froze. There was a pause, and Idrial seemed to think for a moment. Then, slowly, she smiled at the Gondorian. Grateful that their friendship was renewed, Berethor returned the smile.

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There was much to be done that night- weapons to be sharpened, shields to be examined, horses to be prepared. "'Twill be a sleepless night, you mark me Ranger." Hadhod muttered to Elegost grumpily.

"Now Hadhod," Elegost said in a mock scolding tone as he saddled his horse. "Is that any way to prepare for a battle that may very well take your life?" Hadhod glared at his old friend and gave a mocking laugh.

"Funny, Ranger. Positively comical." He remarked, sitting against the wall and lighting his pipe. Just then, Gimli trudged up to them looking troubled.

"What worries you, Master Gimli?" Elegost asked. Gimli grumbled to himself before revealing his news.

"Three-hundred there are here. Two hundred or so more joining us at the camp the night before battle. Merely five hundred soldiers, against some thousands of Orcs and Uruk-Hai! I really don't see what help we can be!" The dwarf commented, pulling out his pipe and joining Hadhod against the wall. Elegost looked at the pair.

"You really shouldn't talk that way. Remember Legolas' little speech before the battle of Helms Deep?" He asked coolly, crossing his arms. Hadhod shifted uncomfortably, a bit humbled, and Gimli grunted.

"Be d-mned if I don't. Ruddy Elf rose the fires of Udun itself that night." He remarked scathingly.

"Are you going to give us a repeat of his performance, Gimli?" Elegost asked sardonically. "Going to get Aragorn into a bad mood?" Gimli seemed to realize that Elegost was right. And the last thing the dwarf wanted to do was get the older Ranger angry again. Under this pressure, it was like jumping into a pit of Uruk-Hai unarmed.

"You know I wouldn't," The dwarf finally said. Elegost nodded.

"I didn't think so. If you want to brood about the likelihood of us winning the fight, then do it where no one will here you." He advised, going back to adjusting the saddle on his horse.

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That's all I have for now. I know Aragorn would never say "Kids", but it was for ironic purposes. Expect another update soon.


	10. Off to Battle and Eaoden's Fear

Author's Note: Whoops. Sorry, I forgot to do a slot for Eaoden in the last chapter. I'll try to make up for it in this one.

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The next morning, the remaining members of the Fellowship and Berethor's company awoke with feelings of dread. In about two or three days' time, they would be riding into one of the biggest battles during this war. Eaoden's sword felt as though it weighed a ton, and his shield seemed to tug unpleasantly at his shoulder.

The Outrider wasn't certain why he was so nervous. He had been in battles before. Certainly this couldn't be anymore intimidating than Helms Deep, when they were face-to-face with their enemies, outnumbered and some inexperienced. Maybe he was nervous because most of the battles were really just skirmishes in the Plains of Rohan- plenty of room to maneuver, and never more than fifty or so Orcs.

This wasn't a skirmish. This was a battle. A battle beyond battles, with hundreds of thousands of Orcs, Wargs and Cave Trolls. This frightened him. Eaoden suddenly felt ashamed of himself. How could he be frightened, when there were worse deaths? How could he be frightened when he had the choice of fighting or becoming a slave to Sauron if he won the war?

Very easily, that's how.

Shaking his head and rubbing his temples, Eaoden attempted to clear his thoughts. _Don't be frightened. Be proud. Even if you do die, it will be with honor to your name._ He told himself as he stumbled to the stables. Elegost, Gimli and Hadhod waited there. They had not gone to bed the night before. When Eaoden inquired to them about this, Elegost merely shrugged.

"By the time we were finished preparing," He responded. "It was three hours until we set off. It would have been silly to try and sleep, only to be awoken three hours later. So we simply stayed up and talked, like a few others." Eaoden now saw that other men were loitering around the stables sullenly, moving as though they were the walking dead. Their demeanors did nothing to calm the Outrider's nerves. Gimli must have sensed this.

"Nervous, lad?" The Dwarf asked, taking a puff from his pipe. The smoke ring coiled through the air around Elegost's horse, and the majestic creature stomped his hooves and snorted irritably. Eaoden nodded as Elegost tried to calm his horse and sent Gimli an annoyed glare. "Aye, it's to be expected. This is no small fight. Some tens of thousands out there," He paused, his face deadpanned and he took another puff on his pipe. "And then there's us."

"_(1)Ai Elbereth_, not again." Elegost groaned. Gimli ignored him.

"We'll be fighting five hundred against ten-thousand something Orcs, trolls and the heavens know what else. I'm surprised we're even going at all." He continued. Eaoden paled slightly and slid down the wall onto a bale of hay.

"Excellent job cheering him, Gimli." Hadhod muttered, noting the change in color of the Rohirran's face. Gimli snorted.

"I wasn't trying to cheer him," He responded, as though Eaoden had left. "I was telling him the truth. You'd all pin me down later for lying if I told him I was one hundred percent sure we'd win." Eaoden promptly went back to rubbing his temples and musing to himself about the coming battle as the two Dwarves spoke. _Ai,_ He thought. _Something tells me I shall not live to see the outcome of this war._

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When all the soldiers, and their wives and children who were coming to see them off, were assembled, the army took off for the camp where they would merge with some two to three hundred other soldiers. Aragorn and Berethor's companies rode toward the front with the King, Eomer and Eowyn, while the others followed behind.

Idrial, of all places, was riding next to Legolas and Gimli. She tried hard to keep her eyes on Theodan's back, but occasionally she would glance out of the corner of her eye at the elf next to her. And, to Idrial's increasing curiosity, every time she looked over she could have sworn she saw Legolas turning away from looking at her.

Idrial had been mentally berating herself for glancing his way for the last few hours of the ride. Perhaps unconsciously, her wordless forgiveness of Berethor's actions was causing her to grow closer to her _Ellon _(2) companion. Which, as was already mentioned, was something that Idrial did not want. Not now, not during the war that could kill every man around them.

But if indeed Legolas was thinking of courting her, then he probably didn't care about the conditions. If this was the case, Idrial privately, partially berated him for it. Though the other side of her was telling her to lighten up and court him right back. That little part of her, the part that was dying to act outwardly interested in the Prince, was afraid she might come off as trying to give him the cold shoulder. Elbereth knew she was certainly capable of it.

The part about Legolas' consideration of the war was brought to Idrial's mind when he spoke to her. "Did you see the sun this morning?" To anyone else that was not familiar with Elven customs, this would seem like a typical, if not slightly romantic conversation starter. But to Idrial and Legolas, it was a bit more significant.

"Yes," Idrial replied. "Red. Maybe the Wildmen killed more refugees." Legolas' brow creased with worry.

"Perhaps," He said. Idrial sensed the tension in his voice, and her eyes narrowed.

"What do you think?" She asked softly. Legolas paused, as thought wondering how to word himself.

"I think," He said, "That we may have missed the beginning of the battle at Minas Tirith." Idrial scowled.

"D-mn Denethor. D-mn his pig-headed pride to Udun. It may be because of their beloved Steward that the people of Minas Tirith perish." She said scathingly. Morwen, who was riding nearby and heard the Elleth's comment felt grim satisfaction, and felt a surge of camaraderie with the elf.

__

You have no idea how deep his pig-headedness runs, my friend. She thought roughly. _You have no idea._ Up ahead, Berethor rode along stiffly and silently. He too had heard Idrial's comment, and agreed completely. Wrath and fury threatened to boil over in his heart, and he swore that he'd shorten the Steward's life considerably if a single hair was harmed on any member of his family's heads. And he would enjoy it immensely.

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The ride took until mid-afternoon, when the camp came into view. Hundreds were there already- possibly more than the King or anyone else had thought was possible.

The soldiers pitched their tents, conversed with others, and then awaited for the next day. They had the night ahead of them to truly prepare for the actual battle, though some more than others didn't even want to touch the subject of the battle. They, like Eaoden, were nervous beyond all reasonable belief. Currently, the Outrider was sitting in his tent and doing what he had been doing all day- rubbing his temples and praying to any God listening he wouldn't die.

Berethor and Elegost watched him at a distance, Elegost shooting the Outrider a pitying look. "The man's going to give himself a heart-attack," He mumbled, turning and prodding at the fire in front of him. Berethor nodded, and also turned from Eaoden.

"I would have thought he'd have seen battle before, being an Outrider and all," He said. Elegost sighed.

"Nothing like this though. The armies of Rohan and Minas Tirith haven't had to train their soldiers for anything this big for centuries. Not since the last war." He explained.

"Understandable," Berethor muttered. After all, why train an army to fight an evil overlord that was alleged to have died an age ago? Just then, Morwen appeared, looking amazed.

"Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli- wait, Eaoden! Get over here! Don't make me have to shout!" She called to the Rohirran, who trudged over to the fire.

"What is it?" He muttered grumpily. Morwen was breathless for a moment, and then she found her words.

"Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are planning to tread the Paths of the Dead!" She gasped. Eaoden paled noticeably, Berethor's jaw dropped, and Elegost went stiff.

"Why," Berethor began slowly, "Would they want to travel… _that_ path?" He said, lowering his voice conspicuously when he referred to the path. Eaoden was still very pale, so Elegost continued.

"Yes," He added. "The Paths of the Dead are a dark place. A dark place indeed." He said.

"Let's be realistic," Morwen said flatly. "We have about seven to eight hundred soldiers here. That's not enough to stop the thousands from Mordor, and the Corsairs that are rumored to be coming. We need more reinforcements. And," She added, looking each of them in the eye in turn. "Aragorn _is_ Isildur's heir. He can hold them to their Oaths."

"Insane," Eaoden finally choked. "I'd rather face the Witch King of Angmar a hundred times over. Going through that path is suicide." Morwen cocked an eyebrow at this.

"Then Idrial and Hadhod must be suicidal," She commented, jerking her head towards Aragorn's tent. "Because they've agreed to accompany them." The three men exchanged fleeting looks, then jumped up and ran to the direction Morwen indicated. There they found Aragorn, Gimli, Legolas, Idrial and Hadhod saddling their horses. Aragorn looked up when they approached.

"I take it Morwen has informed you of our destination?" He asked. Berethor stopped about a foot away from the Ranger.

"You mean you _intend_ to get yourself killed?" He hissed. "Or are you simply mad, because no sane man, elf, or dwarf would make for the Paths of the Dead the night before an important battle!" Now Berethor was almost shouting. Aragorn put up a hand to silence him.

"I have heard this before, Berethor, and I will give you the same answer I gave all the others- This army will not last against Mordor. We need reinforcements. We need many soldiers that fight like fire, and have little to no chance of running out quickly." He turned to the others. "You're welcome to come if you wish," He said.

"No thank you," Eaoden said, still a bit paler than usual. "I'll be fine here." Morwen waved the question off.

"You have my answer," She said coolly.

"I would rather die whilst slaying Orcs," Berethor murmured, still eyeing Aragorn as though he were mad. Elegost stepped forward.

"I will join you," He said. "The legend about the Paths has always intrigued me." Berethor looked uneasily after the Ranger as he untied the rope that held his horse.

"Very well then," He said. "Morwen, Eaoden and I will ride in tomorrow. If you're not there by sundown, I will ask Theodan to declare you officially dead." The Gondorian warned. Aragorn smiled, and the men clasped shoulders. The six riders mounted their horses, and then rode off into the misty night, leaving their three companions in their wake.

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(1): The Elvish Equivalent of "Oh God" or "Oh Lord".

(2): Ellon- Male elf


	11. To War and the Paths of the Dead

The six riders marched along the path in silence. The high rock walls around them seemed to radiate pure malice. Not a sound could be heard but the blowing of the wind- no birds, no deer, nor any other animals that usually inhabited mountains. Gimli, on back of Legolas' horse, shivered. "What kind of army would linger in such a place?" He asked.

"One that do not mind being around rock for an age, doubtless." Elegost mumbled.

"Or one that is cursed," Legolas added. "Long ago, the Men of the Mountains swore an oath to the last King of Gondor. To come to his aid, to fight." He explained. The horses began to toss their heads strangely, and neighing softly as thought frightened. Idrial attempted to calm her horse as she continued.  
"But they didn't. When the time came to fight, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest until they fulfilled their pledge." Hadhod sniffed.

"Since when could Isildur perform curses and the like?" He asked. "He was no wizard."

"Righteous anger can produce great things my friend," Aragorn said. "Great and terrible things." Legolas was looking around apprehensively now, as was Idrial. Something was just not right.

"'Who shall call them from the grey twilight?'" Legolas muttered to himself, recalling something he had heard once. "'The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the North he shall come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead.'" Here, the path became steeper, and Elegost had to urge his horse on a bit harder. It led into a narrower path with dead and scraggly trees lining the sides. Up ahead, there was a hole in the massive mountain rock. The door.

The riders dismounted their horses, and led them through the path, having to duck many branches that scraped across the tops of their heads. "The very warmth of my blood has been stolen away," Gimli whispered, his eyes flickering back and forth.

"Aye- as has mine," Hadhod muttered, keeping an iron grip on his axe. "This is indeed a cursed place." They all stopped before the door.

"The way is shut," Legolas said. "It was made by those who are dead. And the dead keep it." Idrial stepped forward and reached a hand up to the top of the doorway. Her fingers brushed over an eye that had been carved there, along with several small drawings etched off to the side and bellow. Farther off, on the wall surrounding the door, human skulls were imbedded into the rock. Just then, a chilling, haunting wind blew out from the door, and Idrial jumped back in surprise.

Ironically, she crashed right into Legolas. Blushing, she mumbled an apology and moved away. The horses, spooked by the wind, whinnied loudly in fright, reared, and turned tail and fled back down the path. "Brego!" Aragorn yelled to his horse. But none of them returned. The wind did, though. And this time, it brought mist with it. Aragorn, a defiant look on his face, turned to the door. "I do not fear death," He hissed. Drawing Anduril, he went through the doorway and was plunged into darkness. Elegost drew an arrow from his quiver and went after him.

Legolas and Idrial exchanged a glance, and then they followed the two Rangers. Gimli and Hadhod were left standing there. "Well," Gimli said. "This is a thing unheard of. Elves would go underground, while dwarves dare not." Hadhod shook his head.

"We'd never hear the end of this," He added. And with that, they pursued their companions, disappearing into the darkness of the mountain.

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Back at the camp ground, everyone was getting ready to ride off. Fires were being put out, armor was being strapped on, and horses were being prepared. Morwen was currently looking for Berethor and Eaoden. She'd feel better if she rode in beside them. She turned a corner to look behind a tent- and could not believe her eyes. There stood Lady Eowyn, in full battle gear! "My Lady?" Morwen asked. Eowyn whirled around, and went slightly pale.

"Morwen," She gasped, realizing she was caught. Morwen took a step forward in amazement.

"You're riding out?" She whispered. Eowyn looked frantic, but then surrendered to the fact she had been discovered.

"Yes. I am." Her eyes took on a pleading look. "Please, Morwen, tell no one about this. I have my reasons for fighting. Please." Morwen gaped for a moment, but then nodded.

"Not if you don't wish me to, my Lady," She said. Eowyn sighed in relief.

"Thank you," She said. On the other side of the camp, Berethor and Eaoden were packing up along with Merry. The Hobbit wanted to fight alongside them and the King.

"You really want to fight, Merry?" Berethor asked interestedly. Merry nodded.

"Everyone else is doing their part," He explained. "Gandalf and Pippin are in Minas Tirith, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Hadhod, Idrial and Elegost are trying to get reinforcements, you two and Morwen are going into battle, and Frodo and Sam are getting the Ring to Mordor."

"And you want to do something to help," Eaoden said. "But Merry, won't you have trouble? I mean, no offense but you're…" he paused, trying to find the right words so as not to offend the Hobbit. "…smaller than most others." Merry shrugged.

"In a worst case scenario, I can always duck." He said. Berethor nodded.

"All right… Have you checked this with the King? He may have another purpose for you to serve." He explained. "He's over there, if you wish to ask." Merry nodded, looking pleased, and went to speak to the King. Berethor and Eaoden heard every word of the conversation.

"Little Hobbits do not belong in war, Master Meriadoc." Theodan said. Merry sounded hurt.

"All my friends have gone to battle," He protested. "I would be ashamed to be left behind!"

"It is a three day gallop to Minas Tirith," Theodan said coolly. "And none of my riders can bear you as a burden. Not even your friends." Merry glanced back at Eaoden and Berethor, who gave him sympathetic looks. Then he turned back to the King.

"But I want to fight," He said desperately. Theodan was unmoved.

"I will say no more," He said stiffly before galloping off. Merry hung his head, and Eaoden winced.

"Ouch," He muttered. Just then, Morwen and a stranger came up to them. The stranger was a soldier, with a helmet over at least ninety percent of his face, and in full battle attire. Berethor was quite certain he had never seen this man before, but there was something about his that was familiar.

"What's going on?" Morwen asked, not bothering to explain the stranger's presence.

"King Theodan won't let Merry fight," Eaoden explained. "He said none of the soldiers could bare him as a burden. Sad, really. He really wants to fight." The stranger straightened up.

"I will abide him," The stranger offered. Berethor could have sworn there was something feminine about that man's voice. Morwen's eyes flickered to the stranger apprehensively, but nodded.

"Merry!" Berethor called. Merry trudged back to his friends looking dispirited.

"Yes?" He asked sullenly.

"This rider has agreed to bear you to Minas Tirith," The Gondorian explained. Merry's head shot up in surprise.

"But sir," He said. "Would you not find it annoying to have to deal with the additional burden of carrying a Hobbit?" He asked. The stranger shook his head.

"I do not mind." Again, Berethor sensed something amiss about this man, but could not quite put a finger on it. The stranger motioned for Merry to follow him back to his horse, where he mounted first, and then pulled Merry up after him.

"If no other shall bear you, then I shall." The stranger whispered, and Merry suddenly realized that he had heard that voice before. He grinned.

"Lady Eowyn!" He whispered. Eowyn smiled, and shushed him before someone could hear. "Does anyone else know?" He asked. Eowyn nodded.

"Morwen does. But no others do, so keep it private- my Uncle would not be pleased if he found out about this." She said. Back with Morwen, Berethor and Eaoden, Eaoden turned to Morwen.

"Who was that?" He asked. Morwen smirked mysteriously.

"A friend," She said innocently, mounting her horse. Berethor and Eaoden exchanged confused looks, but then shrugged it off. Up ahead, Theodan could be heard calling out orders.

"Form up! Move out!" Last hugs were exchanged between family members, and the soldiers mounted their horses and followed after their King. Eomer was repeating the orders after his Uncle as they rode through the camp. "Ride!" The King cried. "Ride now to Gondor!" Several flanks of soldiers joined from different parts of the camp into the line behind Theodan, and then they were off for Minas Tirith, where the battle was already beginning.

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Back on the Paths of the Dead, the paths had fallen silent again. No gusts of wind. Just the sound of the six warriors steps through the mist. Strangely enough, a torch was found on the wall. Aragorn pulled it off, and then waved it toward an opening in the wall. A pile of human skulls, black and rotted from the decay of time stared out at them with unseeing eyes. Idrial unconsciously took a step back, and folded her arms tightly across her chest. Legolas saw her discomfort and took a step closer to her. She did not notice.

"What is it?" Gimli whispered hoarsely towards the back with Hadhod. "What do you see?" Legolas looked around at the various skeletons scattered around.

"I see shapes of men," He paused. "And horses. Pale banners, like shreds of cloud."

"The skeletons of the soldiers," Idrial realized. "Perhaps this army is bigger than I first surmised." Gimli seemed slightly jumpy.

"Where?" He asked. "Where do you see them? I see nothing." Hadhod noticed the change in his companion and, for once, decided to take advantage of it. He trailed behind the other dwarf unnoticed for a moment, and then tapped him on the shoulder.

"Boo," he hissed. Gimli jumped a mile, and very nearly took off Hadhod's head with his axe. Hadhod snickered. "Jumpier than a doe, you are." He commented. Gimli grumbled something fierce.

"Be nice, Hadhod," Elegost said from up front.

"Spears rise," Legolas continued softly. "Like winter thickets through a shroud of mist.(1)" he voice then took on a note of urgency. "The Dead are following," He whispered. "They have been summoned." His pace quickened so that he was up next to Idrial again. Neither of them seemed to notice that the distance between them was growing shorter.

"The Dead? Summoned?" Gimli was panicking again. He jerked his head in a comprehending manner. "I knew that." He added.

"Control yourself, Gimli. And you as well, Hadhod," Elegost said in a warning tone to the latter of the two. Hadhod shrugged and continued on. Gimli, with his back turned, did not notice his companions going offf without him.

"Good, very good," He mumbled to himself. He turned, and saw that his companions had disappeared around the upcoming corner. "Hadhod! Legolas!" He yelped, running after them. The company was now wading through a pool of mist. The mist seemed to take on the forms of hands, grabbing at Legolas and his bow, and Idrial with her sword.

A mist-hand appeared next to Gimli's face, and he blew at it. It collapsed for a moment, and then re-stabilized. Gimli frantically blew at the hands, now also waving it away until it was completely gone. Aragorn noticed a crunching sound whenever he moved, and signaled to Elegost to look down. The other Ranger obliged- and jerked his head back up almost instantly in disgust. Idrial and Legolas were also looking displeased with what they saw.

"Do not look down." Aragorn muttered, now keeping his eyes straight ahead. So, of course, Gimli and Hadhod looked down. Beneath their feet were skulls. Human skulls. Every time someone, even Legolas and Idrial, stepped somewhere, the skulls would crack and break. Hadhod groaned in disgust, and Gimli shut his eyes. He leaned forward and winced as a skull beneath him cracked. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on through a stomach-turning series of sickening cracking sounds.

Finally, they escaped the pool of skulls and mist and were able to move at a faster pace. The narrow passage opened up to reveal a large cavern with a stone castle embedded into its walls. Everyone went stiff. The malice that seeped from the rock seemed to grow stronger. A low, hoarse, hissing voice echoed through the cavern.

__

"Who enters my domain?" The voice hissed. Aragorn whirled to face the castle, and a glowing green figure appeared on the steps leading into the castle. He was a skeleton garbed in a King's attire, complete with a crown and a floor-length cape. Dead white hair flowed from his head, and his eye sockets had no eyes, but small, white-green pin-points. Aragorn drew himself up.

"One who would have your allegiance," He said. The Dead King chuckled evilly, and Idrial felt several chills run down her spine all at once. The hairs on the back of Elegost's neck stood up, and Hadhod raised his axe.

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass," The King whispered. Aragorn shook his head.

"You will suffer me," He replied. The King laughed out right now, and the company seemed to tremble merely from his voice. Even Idrial, usually so good at hiding fear, now trembled and backed up a bit. Legolas put a hand on her back, and she saw that he too was shaking a bit. Only Aragorn did not falter.

The walls began to glow an ethereal green, and thousands of shapes began to unfold from them. They were the shapes of the men that had died so long ago. They carried swords, shields, scythes and axes. They began to move toward the company, which tightened their grips on their swords.

"The way is shut," The King hissed tauntingly. "It was made by those who are dead… and the Dead keep it." In seconds, a myriad of ghosts had emerged from the wall and gathered around the company, blocking any and all exits.

They were trapped.

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(1): What, does he write poetry for a hobby?


	12. Decision of the Dead

"The way is shut," The King of the Dead whispered, moving towards the six warriors. "Now you must die." Legolas took his hand off Idrial's back, grabbed an arrow from his quiver, and shot it at the King in under three seconds. The arrow hit its mark- the King's forehead- but then it simply went straight through it! The King, undeterred, kept moving forward, his soldiers moving behind him.

"Idrial," Elegost mumbled. "This would be a very nice time for you to pull off that trick with the water again," Aragorn took a bold step forward.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath," He said. The King growled, and quickened his pace.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" He hissed. In response, Aragorn raised Anduril so that it was level with his face. The King of the Dead went to strike him, but Anduril protected Aragorn and fended off the blade. Aragorn pushed the sword away.

"That line was broken!" The King protested. Aragorn's hand shot up and grabbed the King's decayed throat, and pressing Anduril against his neck.

"It has been remade," He said coolly. He shoved the King away, and then turned his attention to the other dead soldiers present. "Fight for us," He said. "And regain your honor." He walked along the line of dead men, looking each of them in the face. "What say you?" There was no response. Elegost nocked his arrow just in case, even though he knew it would do no good.

Idrial had privately questioned Aragorn's boldness when he spoke to the King, but now she was getting the impression that even the dead men were afraid of him. The soldiers parted and Aragorn walked amongst them, holding Anduril aloft. "What say you?" Aragorn asked again.

"You waste your time, Aragorn." Gimli grunted. "They had no honor in life, they have none in death." Hadhod nodded in agreement.

"Even when they have nothing to lose, and all to gain." He added. Aragorn continued on, raising Anduril a bit higher.

"I am Isildur's heir," he said. He turned and pointed Anduril at a cluster of soldiers. "Fight for me, and I will hold your oaths fulfilled." He turned back to the King, who had a blank expression on his rotted features. "What say you?" Aragorn barked at him. The King began to chuckle again, and Idrial gritted her teeth. Valar, she hated that laugh. The dead began to fade away, back into the walls from whence they came.

"You have my word!" Aragorn cried. "Fight, and I will release you from this living death!" But they did not come back.

"STAND YOU TRAITORS!" Gimli roared, his fear forgotten. The wind returned, and it blew the mist in the cavern away. A great rumbling resounded. The ground trembled, and Elegost had to brace himself to keep his bearings. Rocks and skulls imbedded in the ceiling fell, and one skull narrowly missed hitting Idrial on the head.

"They're bringing down the cave!" Elegost yelled. Just then, the walls of the castle broke down, and a wave of skulls poured out towards the company.

"OUT!" Aragorn called, running for another doorway. They had to wade through the oncoming skulls to move, and suddenly, Idrial slipped. She cried out as she fell towards the abyss below the cavern, and was stopped abruptly when Legolas grabbed her hand and pulled her upright.

"_Hannon lle melon-nin_,(1)" She breathed. Up ahead for a moment, Elegost disappeared beneath the sea of skulls, and then reappeared by forcing himself up. The same thing happened again, only with Legolas. Except that he was under longer.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled. He turned to Idrial. "Where is he?" He called. Idrial shook her head.

"I don't know- one minute he was here, the next- there he is!" Legolas reappeared just in front of the Elleth a second later. Aragorn and Elegost finally reached a place where the skulls could no longer hit them, and signaled for the others to follow. Legolas pushed Idrial ahead of him, then Hadhod after her, and ran in himself after grabbing Gimli's arm and tugging him with him.

They got through just in the nick of time, just as the rocks were beginning to collapse over the entrance to their escape route. The company dove out of the cave, and Elegost hissed as his eyes adjusted to the sun. "Well," Hadhod muttered. "Excellent time to discover that the exit was mere feet away from us the whole time."

"Oh no," Idrial whispered.

"What?" Legolas asked. Idrial just pointed. They were on a slope that led down to a large river- a river that was currently bearing several ships with black sails. The Corsairs of Umbar had arrived. Aragorn was on his knees, a look of failure etched on his face. Legolas put a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. Idrial, Elegost and the dwarves observed the ships with dark expressions.

"With those reinforcements behind Mordor," Elegost mumbled. "Minas Tirith has no chance. Even if the warriors of Rohan get there in time." Idrial shut her eyes and tilted her head toward the ground. She then felt a strong gust of wind at her back, and whirled around. Aragorn and the others did so as well.

It was the King of the Dead.

He went straight up to Aragorn, who stood up immediately, and looked him in the eye. There was a pause, and then he said only two words:

"We fight."

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Sorry this chapter was so much shorter than the others, but I'm trying to build dramatic tension.

(1): Hannon lle mellon-nin- Thank you my friend.


	13. The Siege of Minas Tirith

Author's Note: I've got a surprise POV in this chapter. Not a mystery one, you'll guess who it is pretty quickly (It's an OC- don't expect something too familiar.).

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The Corsairs were busy on their ships, working the sails, rowing and preparing their weapons for when they arrived at Gondor. Just then, a voice called out: "You will go no further!" The captain of the ship with a clear view of the shoreline. Standing about fifty feet off were six people- Two men, two dwarves, and what appeared to be two elves. The speaker was a man with a sword rested against his shoulder. "You will not enter Gondor," he said.

The ships that heard this roared with laughter. The captain moved to the side of the ship, and looked directly at the man. "Who are you to deny us passage?" On shore, Aragorn kept his eyes locked on the captain, but he muttered:

"Legolas, fire a warning shot past the bosun's ear." Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver and aimed.

"Mind your aim," Gimli said. He pulled out his axe and gave Legolas' bow a little knock. The bow sang as Legolas let go of the arrow- and it hit a Corsair in the heart, killing him almost instantly.

Legolas, Aragorn, Elegost, Hadhod and Idrial all gave Gimli simmering looks. Gimli winced, and then said in an unsure voice: "Ah-that's it. Right. We warned you. Prepare to be boarded!" The ships roared with laughter once more, and the captain choked,

"Boarded? By you and whose army?" He called.

"Interesting choice of words," Idrial murmured. Aragorn gave a small, humorless smile.

"This army," He whispered. The Dead King came charging out of the wall, went straight through Aragorn, and went for the ship, his soldiers behind him. They did not sink in the water, nor did they float- it was as though they were running across a completely smooth surface. The laughter of the Corsairs died almost instantly, and were replaced by the last screams they would ever scream.

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The army heading to Minas Tirith was camped out a good several leagues away from the city, resting before the actual battle. Eomer came riding into the camp with two other soldiers, one holding the flag of Rohan. "The scouts report that Minas Tirith is surrounded," He reported. "The lower level's in flames. Everywhere, legions of the enemy advance."

Berethor felt his heart stop at those words. His family lived on the second level from the ground. Were they alive? Or had they been cut down by Orcs? Berethor pictured his two sisters, now sixteen year olds, and his brother, about twenty-eight. And then his mother and father… Berethor began to feel sick, and he sat down on a stone. Morwen, seeing his distress, sat down next to him and put an arm around his shoulders.

"Time is against us," Theodan said. "Make ready!" He called to the troops. A little ways away, Eowyn had removed her helmet and was getting a bit of air, Merry and Eaoden nearby. Eaoden had indeed noticed that he was in the presence of the White Lady of Rohan, but made no comment of it.

"Take heart, Merry," She said to the Hobbit. "It will soon be over."

"My Lady," Merry said. "You are fair and brave…and have much to live for. And many who love you. I know it is too late to turn aside. I know there is not much point know in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan, capable of great deeds… but I'm not. I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle-Earth. I just want to help my friends." Eaoden and Eowyn both regarded the Hobbit sympathetically.

"Frodo," The Hobbit recounted with a smile. "Sam. Pippin. More than anything, I wish I could see them again."

"And so you shall, Master Meriadoc," Eaoden said, grasping Merry's shoulder in a friendly way. "And so you shall."

"Prepare to move out!" Came Eomer's call.

"Make haste!" Theodan added. "We ride through the night!" A soldier blew the Horn of Rohan as the soldiers scrambled to pick themselves up. Together, Eaoden, Eowyn and Merry replaced their helmets.

"To battle," Eowyn said. Eaoden and Merry nodded.

"To battle," The chorused.

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Adelaide shrieked as another boulder came pelting towards the citadel. The trolls in the Pelennor fields had been setting them off all night, but miraculously, none of them had ever landed anywhere near her. But her luck had finally run out. Adelaide ran for her life down a flight of stone steps to the main walkway, just as the boulder hit the spot where she had been standing.

Bits of debris from the now ruined building hit Adelaide's back, though none were big enough to truly harm her. Below, she could feel the trolls and the Orcs slamming that terrible 'Grog' thing into the main gates of the city. She could hear soldiers yelling, and another man crying out: "Back to the gates! Defend the gates!" She knew his name well. Gandalf the White, or Grey, as Adelaide had always known him as.

Cautiously, Adelaide picked herself up and went to the wall. The lower level of Minas Tirith was up in flames, and there were scattered fires all around from where flame-tipped arrows had hit. She was on the fourth level of the city, far from the Orcs, but she was still frightened. Adelaide could not find her family. Her mother and twin sister was missing, and her father and brother were defending the gates.

Adelaide's other brother, Berethor, was out on a quest set on him by Lord Denethor. Oh, she wished he were there. Berethor was so calm and orderly; he would have kept their family together someplace safe. Adelaide wanted to sit against the wall and rest, but knew that it could mean her death if she did. Maybe, she thought, it would be safer on the seventh level. The catapults could not throw the boulders that high, and it looked safest up there.

Sliding away from the wall, Adelaide ran for the steps that led to the highest level of the city. She counted them off in her head as she approached, and finally, she found herself staring at a green and white courtyard with the dead, white tree in the middle of it. Farther off, she saw a small figure standing in front of the wall. From his size, Adelaide first thought it was a child. But he then turned around and she saw he was no child- just a small man.

He looked at her. "Hello," He said.

"Hello," Adelaide responded breathlessly.

"What are you doing up here?" He asked in a curious voice that was tinged with worry.

"I thought it would be safe up here," She explained. "I've been unable to find my family, you see." The man nodded.

"It is safer up here," He said. "But it's not a very good view." Adelaide smiled softly, and joined him at the wall. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Adelaide. And yours?"

"Peregrin Took. But you may call me Pippin." Just then, there was a noise and both Pippin and Adelaide turned around. Coming from the castle was Lord Denethor. Behind him were six men carrying a board… with Faramir, Denethor's son on it. Adelaide gasped.

"Lord Faramir is dead?" She asked. Pippin looked alarmed.

"No," He said, "He isn't!"

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(Author's note: I really don't want to have to elaborate what happens after that. You already know.)


	14. The Witch King of Angmar

The Orcs were met with a surprise the next day, just a little after dawn. The sound of a horn reverberated across the Pelennor fields, and an army of horsemen rode up. The flags of Rohan waved freely in the morning breeze, and the soldiers perched on the edge of the plains awaiting the order to attack. Berethor saw the state of his home- and suddenly he wanted to cry.

Minas Tirith, he beautiful home, was nearly in ruins. Fires could be seen throughout various parts of the city, and that many of the buildings had been felled by boulders thrown in catapults. But something else happened to Berethor just then. He not only felt unbearable sadness, but he also felt unfathomable fury. How dare these creatures desecrate his home? How dare they attack his people? How dare they attack his family?

There would be h-ll to raise about this.

Theodan pulled out his sword, and charged down the line. "Eomer, take your eored down the left flank!" He called to his nephew. Eomer affirmed the order. "Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center. Grimbold, take your company right after you pass the wall. Forth, and fear no darkness!" He turned to the soldiers. "Arise, arise, Riders of Theodan! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered!" He passed right by Eowyn and Merry, and Eowyn turned her face so that Theodan would not see her. "A sword day, a red day, ere the sun rises!"

The Riders pulled out their spears, Berethor and Morwen donning their own swords and axes, and the Orcs knelt down with their pikes pointed towards the riders. One wrong move, and someone could be speared on them. Berethor held his head high, determined to make those Orcs pay for the pain they had caused his city. He was also determined to survive the fight so he could give Lord Denethor a good punch in the nose.

He felt Morwen reach out and touch his arm. "Be careful," She muttered. Berethor squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"I will be." He said. "We will survive this battle." King Theodan now rode down the line, tapping his sword against the raised spears.

"Ride now! Ride now! Ride! Ride for ruin, and the world's ending! Death!" He cried, raising his sword to the orange sky.

"Death!" The soldiers echoed.

"Death!" Theodan roared.

"Death!" The soldiers thundered back.

"DEATH!"

"DEATH!"

"FORTH EORLINGAAAAAAAAAS!" Theodan thundered, as his men blew the horns. Theodan, sword held high, charged forward and led his people into battle, cheering.

"FIRE!" Captain Gothmog of the Orcs called to the archers. Arrows were sent off, hitting some of the riders and sending them crashing to the ground.

"CHARGE!" Theodan yelled.

"FIRE AT WILL!" Gothmog roared. Arrows went up everywhere, and more riders fell. But they remained undeterred. The riders pressed on ever harder towards the Orcs. The Orcs took one look at the bold, determined expressions on the soldier's faces, and they faltered.

Then the armies collided.

It was like watching a massive wave crashing onto a rock. The Orcs up front were completely obliterated, even the ones with the spears and pikes. Those who were not decapitated by a rider were trampled by a horse. The Orcs, including Gothmog, began to fall back a bit, frightened for the first time since they attacked Minas Tirith.

Berethor, thoughts of his family in mind, fought like a man possessed. He killed every Orc within his reach, and then went off to find some more. Morwen, also fighting like wildfire, stopped for a second and squinted at the seventh level of Minas Tirith. A small, fiery object was dropping like a stone towards the ground. A glance to the side revealed that Eaoden and Eowyn had seen it as well.

"What was that?" Eaoden called as he quickly stabbed another Orc. Morwen shrugged, and then fended off an Orc that had made a slash for her chest.

"I don't know! We'll find out later, most likely." She said. The Axe-Maiden lost track of her friends as she continued to jab, slash and kill the monsters around her. A few minutes into the battle, and the Orcs were running in fright from the Rohirrim.

"Drive them to the river!" Eomer boomed to the soldiers around him. Nearby, King Theodan smiled triumphantly.

"Make safe the city!" He called. But then, suddenly, everyone stopped dead. Theodan's smiled faded slowly when he saw what they saw. A line of tall, wicked looking creatures approached from the East. Haradrim, riding upon the monstrous Mumakil. The Orcs ran for safety behind the line of Mumakil, and Theodan started giving out orders. "Re-form the line! Re-form the line!"

The riders hastened to get into a straight line as quickly as possible, urging their horses to be still before the oncoming threat. The Mumakil roared so loudly it echoed across the Pelennor fields. They swung their mighty tusks through the air, and glared at the army ahead. "Sound the charge!" Theodan barked. "Take them head-on!"

Next to him, Gamling blew the horn, and Theodan yelled "Charge!" The riders took off towards the Mumakil, however reluctantly, and began to chase down the fleeing Orcs. Disaster promptly ensued. Any man and his horse that got within twenty feet of the Mumakil was either stomped on or knocked away by the heavy tusks of the creatures.

Eaoden was one of the unlucky ones to be hit by a tusk. Thankfully, he was not hit by the spiked part of the tusk, but he was knocked off his horse. Dazed, he lay there for a moment, and then yelped when he saw a Mumakil foot about to step down on him! Gathering his wits, he rolled to the side just in time to avoid being killed. Jumping to his feet and ripping out his sword, Eaoden prepared for the fight of his life.

Nearby, Eowyn and Merry rode between the tree-trunk sized legs of the Mumakil, and Eowyn slashed furiously at its legs until it collapsed. Morwen did something similar, by jumping off her horse and pulling out her double axes. She ran at the Mumakil, and performed a deadly move that cut so deeply into the creature's leg, Morwen thought for a second she had seen it's bone.

Eomer threw a spear at an Easterling that was steering the Mumakil, and killed him. As the man fell, his scythe got caught in the Mumakil's ear, and his extra weight dragged the massive creature down. But as the Mumakil stumbled, it crashed into one of its fellows, and dragged _that _Mumakil down as well. _A good shot,_ Berethor thought, having witnessed Eomer's move. Berethor was too wary of the Mumakil to get close enough to do any damage, so he went for the Orcs and Easterlings that came off the dead Mumakil.

Just then, the worst case scenario got worse.

The Nine Riders descended from the sky, diving at Minas Tirith and the screaming people in it. Trolls with giant hammers pounded on the reinforced doors, trying to force their way in to the soldiers behind it. Out in the field, Theodan called out: "Rally to me! To me!" But before anyone could move, a Fell Beast came out of the smoky air, a Nazgul on its back, and picked up Theodan and his horse in its teeth.

Eowyn and Morwen (Who was nearby), watched in horror as the King was thrown aside like a limp rag. He did not move. The Nazgul and his Fell Beast lingered over the fallen King. Upon closer inspection, Morwen realized with a stab of horror that it was not just any Nazgul on the Fell Beast- it was the Witch King, the creature her father had told her about when she was a child.

In her pocket, Morwen carried a pendant that had once been her mother's. She had always told Morwen that the pendant kept the King of the Nazgul away, and her father had always laughed at that. Now, Morwen realized that her father was right- no pendant was going to keep the Witch King away now. The Nazgul hissed.

"Feast on his flesh," It hissed maliciously to the beast. The beast snarled, and moved to bite at king Theodan when Eowyn leapt out in front of him.

"I will kill you if you touch him!" She warned.

"Eowyn!" Morwen gasped.

"Do not come between the Nazgul and his prey," The Witch King growled. The Fell Beast snapped at Eowyn, and Morwen watched in awe as Eowyn spun around and quickly cut off the beast's head. It's body flailed around wildly, and Morwen jumped out next to Eowyn as it flopped back and collapsed on the ground, still twitching slightly. Eowyn picked up two fallen shields nearby, and tossed one to Morwen. It would be needed.

The Witch King rose from behind the wing of the dead Fell Beast, and turned to face the two women. Screeching, he swung his spiked mace down towards Morwen and Eowyn. Both women dodged to the side, and avoided having their skulls crushed in. Now the Witch King swung his mace in an arc, and Eowyn had to duck so not to lose her head.

The Witch King swung for Eowyn again, and his mace destroyed her shield. "Eowyn!" Morwen cried as she saw her friend fall back. Eowyn could not move her arm- she believed it was broken. Morwen rushed to her friend's aid, and then they both stared up at the Witch King as he loomed over them.

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At the docks near Minas Tirith, a large band of Orcs stood, watching the Corsair ships pull in. "Late! As usual!" An Orc yelled. "Typical Pirate scum! There's knife-work here that needs doing! Come on, you sea rats! Get off the d-mn ships!" He sneered.

With a cry, Aragorn leapt over the wall of the ship. Legolas, Idrial, Elegost, Hadhod and Gimli followed soon after. The scorned look on the Orc's face was quickly replaced with a look of surprise and confusion. Where were the Corsairs? Aragorn strode forward confidently, Anduril raised. Elegost strung an arrow and also moved forward.

"There's plenty for the both of us! May the best Dwarf win!" Gimli said to Legolas, who smirked at the challenge. Idrial glanced at the water, wondering how many Orcs she could drown with it. Behind them, the army of the dead came running from the ships into the harbor, killing all in their path.

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And the tension continues!


	15. The Battle Won

Meanwhile, Eowyn and Morwen were still face to face with the Witch King. Morwen stood up and raised her axes, intending to defend the temporarily dazed Eowyn. The Witch King hissed, and promptly knocked the Axe-Maiden aside with almost no effort. Morwen was not the one that challenged him. He was after Eowyn.

Reaching down, he seized Eowyn by the throat. "You fool," He hissed. "No man can kill me," Nearby, Morwen struggled to get to her feet, but collapsed. The Nazgul had caught her in the ribs, knocking the wind right out of her. She suspected she'd have terrible bruises later on. "Die now,"

Without warning, Merry appeared behind the Witch King and stabbed him in the back with a dagger. The Witch King made a terrible gargling noise, his limbs going rigid with pain. He dropped Eowyn, and then fell to his knees. Merry screamed in pain, his arm burning with iron-hot pain.

"Merry," Morwen choked as the Hobbit fell back. She tried again to pull herself to her feet, but stopped when she saw Eowyn. The Shield Maiden stood tall before the Nazgul, her sword back in hand. She ripped off her helmet, her blonde hair tumbling down her back.

"I am no man," She whispered. And with that, she let out a cry and stabbed the Witch King in the face, twisting her sword through the excruciating pain that shot through her entire body. The Witch King's mask crumpled, and he imploded on himself.

The Witch King of Angmar, source of so many fears, was dead.

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"Merry! Morwen!" Eowyn gasped, crawling towards her friends. Just then, she heard something grunting behind her. It was Gothmog. The injured, Pig-like Orc was alive, and crawling toward Eowyn menacingly. Eowyn gasped even louder, and crawled as quickly as she could towards her sword.

But Gothmog stood, and began to stumble towards her. Eowyn stretched, her fingers brushing the hilt of her sword just as Gothmog went to strike her down… WHACK. Aragorn came out of nowhere and hacked off Gothmog's arm. He and Gimli made quick work of the Orc captain.

"Legolas!" Aragorn yelled to his elven friend. Legolas and Idrial, who was beside him, turned. They quickly saw what Aragorn had called to them for. One of the few remaining Mumakil was heading right for them.

"Stay here!" Legolas said to Idrial. "I have an idea!" Idrial was uncertain, but she trusted the other elf's judgment and stayed where she was, killing the Orcs she could find nearby. The Mumakil swung at Legolas as he ran towards it, but he dodged the tusks and then grabbed on to the left one. He jumped from the tusk to the front left leg, and then jumped to the left back leg.

Legolas managed to scramble up the Mumakil's calf, and perch on the area near its spine. He pulled out some arrows, and let them fly at the Easterlings in the traveling basket on its back. "Thirty-three! Thirty-four! Thirty-five!" From below, Elegost and Hadhod watched in awe.

"The elf's gone mad," Hadhod muttered. Elegost shrugged and shot down another Orc.

"Whatever works for him." He said. Back on the Mumakil, the Easterlings leapt at Legolas, and he shot them all down one by one. One he even managed to throw off the Mumakil all together and send him into the sea of the undead army.

Pulling out his knife, Legolas ran forward and slashed the ropes holding up the traveling basket that held the Easterlings. The basket fell, but the Mumakil lived on, stomping madly across the field. Legolas pulled out two arrows, and shot the beast in the neck. It roared in pain, and began to collapse. Legolas coolly slid down its trunk, and landed neatly back on the battlefield.

Elegost, Hadhod, Idrial and Gimli all stared at him with wide eyes. Gimli found his voice first. "That still only counts as one!" He barked. Legolas smiled, and he caught Idrial laughing off to the side. Elegost clapped his shoulder.

"Nice," He said, glancing back at the dead Mumakil appreciatively. "Very nice." Hadhod grunted.

"Not bad… for an elf." He muttered, glancing off to the side. Gimli ran forward, determined to beat Legolas' score, and began hacking at any and all Orcs he saw. Aragorn broke another Orcs neck, and then stopped. There were no more Orcs. The Mumakil were being taken down and ripped to pieces by the Dead, so they were no longer a problem. . Now the dead were sweeping Minas Tirith, cleansing the city of the Orcs as well.

They had won the battle.

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Back with Eowyn, Morwen and Merry, Eowyn crawled towards her Uncle. Morwen managed to stand up, clutching her ribs in pain, and stumble over to Eowyn. "Morwen," The Shield Maiden said. "Go. We have won the battle. Go find your friends. I will care for Merry and my Uncle."

"Are you certain?" Morwen asked. She did not want to leave Eowyn alone, but she also wanted to see if her friends were still alive. Eowyn nodded.

"Yes. Now go." And so Morwen stumbled off, still holding her ribs.

"Berethor," She called hoarsely. "Eaoden!" There was no response. "Berethor! Eaoden!" She called again. There was a moan from nearby, from behind a dead Mumakil. Morwen, scared, stumbled over and saw lying on the ground, none other than Berethor. His armor was badly damaged, and it looked as though someone had pounded on him with an oversized hammer. "Berethor!" She gasped, crumbling to her knees next to him. "Oh Elbereth, you're hurt." She whispered.

Berethor, half-conscious, half-asleep looked up hazily at Morwen. "You're all right," he whispered. Tears welled up in Morwen's eyes, and a few slid down her cheeks.

"But you're not," She whispered in a quivering voice. Flinching from the pain it caused, Berethor reached up and rubbed the tears off her cheek.

"I will be," He murmured. "Did we win?" Morwen gave a shaky laugh.

"Yes, Berethor, we won." Berethor smiled.

"I… I need to find my family. My sisters… My mother… My brother… My father…" He mumbled, shaking his head. He tried to get up, but then he cried out in intense, flaming pain. Morwen gasped, and lowered him carefully back to the ground.

Mornie alantie (Darkness has fallen)

A promise lives within you now

May it be when shadows call

Will fly away

"I can't move," He choked. Morwen carefully reached up and removed his helm. She stroked his hair in a comforting fashion.

"It's all right," She murmured. "We'll wait here until you're feeling better. Then we can find your family. Berethor nodded, panting, and Morwen gently placed his head on her lap. Far off, she heard the cry of Eomer as he discovered his little sister, who was near death, and his dead Uncle.

Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Elegost, Hadhod and Idrial stood before the army of the dead. "Release us," The King of the Dead commanded. Aragorn took a breath, about to speak, when Gimli said:

"Bad idea. Very handy in a tight spot, these lads, despite the fact they're dead." Idrial made a slashing motion across her throat, and Elegost hissed when he realized what the reaction to this would be.

"You gave us your word!" The King said menacingly. Aragorn nodded.

"I hold your oath fulfilled. Go- be at peace." He said. The King of the Dead smiled a true smile at him, and then he and his army disappeared into the wind.


	16. The Battle Lost

A/N: Ai, so ye be wanting longer chapters, do ye? Well, I shall have to oblige. Okay, I'll give you a hint: Something's going to happen in this chapter that's probably going to make most of you say "FINALLY!"

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Eaoden was in something of a daze as he wandered the battlefield. He had a deep cut to his right side, and his left arm was broken. At least three of his ribs felt like they were shattered, and he believed that he would soon collapse. Sometime after he avoided being killed by the Mumakil, his helm had fallen off. His cape was torn, and his armor was dented.

Basically, he looked like death.

But at least it was over, for the time being. Eaoden had survived. Up ahead, he saw several figures that were blurred from his weakening vision. Eaoden stumbled towards them, not really seeing, and tripped over an Orc corpse. "Eaoden!" One of the figures cried. Dimly, Eaoden felt someone grab his arm and support him. "Eaoden, friend! Are you all right?"

"Elegost?" Eaoden murmured.

"Yes, it's me. Here," He pulled the Rohirran's arm over his shoulders.

"You… you all survived the Paths?" Eaoden asked.

"Yes, we did. Fear not, we'll get you help." Eaoden forced himself to move forward while Elegost led him on. It seemed like forever until they stopped, and Elegost started to speak to Aragorn. Carefully, he lowered the Outrider to the ground. Aragorn began to mumble, passing his hand over Eaoden's torso. The Rohirran man stiffened, but his body gradually relaxed, and the pain that had once so viciously stabbed at him was gone.

Eaoden, suddenly feeling stronger, sat up. Not a twinge of pain was left in his arm, side, or ribs. "Thank you," he said gratefully to Aragorn. "I am in your debt, Lord Aragorn." Aragorn smiled.

"You are not, Eaoden. I heal others because I can. You are my friend- did you seriously think I would allow you to suffer?" Eaoden returned the smile, but then he became serious.

"Where is King Theodan?" He asked urgently. Aragorn's smile faded quickly, and he was solemn. Behind him, Elegost lowered his head in respect of the dead.

"King Theodan perished," Aragorn said softly. "The Witch King broke his spine. Eowyn slew the Nazgul in her anger." Eaoden gaped.

"Lady Eowyn smote the Witch King?" He said in barely a whisper. Elegost nodded.

"With the help of Merry and Morwen. I have not been able to find the latter, but Merry and Eowyn have been taken to the Houses of Healing. Berethor is also unaccounted for." He explained. Eaoden went cold. The King dead, his niece near death and two of his friends unaccounted for.

"This is ill news," Eaoden said gravely, standing up and brushing his cloak off his shoulders.

"Indeed," Aragorn agreed. Just then, Legolas and Hadhod came up to them.

"Lord Denethor is dead," The elf said. "He was caught on fire and leapt from the seventh level. Pippin, Gandalf and a young woman claiming to be Berethor's sister witnessed it." Eaoden gaped. Another leader was dead? This had been a costly battle.

"How did he catch on fire?" Elegost asked, his brow furrowed. Hadhod snorted.

"The crazy old fool finally lost his mind. The story is long, so ask Gandalf if you crave details. We just know the outline." The dwarf said.

"Have you found Berethor and Morwen yet?" Legolas asked. Aragorn sighed.

"No." He replied.

"Actually, yes." Idrial and Gimli came forward, and all eyes were on them. "Morwen had several broken ribs, and Berethor has both that, a concussion and a broken leg." Idrial recounted. "I'd say Morwen got off easy."

"Aye," Gimli said. "Did you hear? Lord Denethor-"

"Yes, we heard he's dead." Eaoden interrupted. Gimli gaped.

"He's dead? There's something young Adelaide left out!" He saw the confused looks, and added- "One of Berethor's sisters. She told us that Denethor went mad, and tried to burn his son Faramir because he thought he was dead!"

"Yes," Idrial confirmed. "Even when Pippin kept telling him that Faramir was alive, he would not listen."

"Where are Berethor and Morwen now?" Aragorn asked.

"Houses of Healing, the third and fourth beds down from the right-hand end. Eowyn and Merry as well." Gimli said.

"I'd better see to them," Aragorn said.

"I'll go with you," Elegost said. "I have the sudden urge to get dead drunk." Hadhod waved his axes lightly.

"I second that motion," He said.

"As do I," Gimli muttered. He turned to Eaoden. "Wish to join us, laddie?" Eaoden groaned.

"No, I've learned my lesson about drinking. I'm just going to sleep." He looked at Idrial and Legolas. "Coming?" He asked.

"I'm not," She said. "I'm afraid I dropped something back at the dock, and I must go look for it."

"I'll go with you," Legolas volunteered. Aragorn and Elegost exchanged fleeting looks, and smirked privately with one another.

"If you wish," Aragorn said. He shot a sly smile at Legolas. "Have fun," he said. Legolas went pink, and turned to follow Idrial.

"What did you drop?" He asked as the distance between them and their friends widened.

"A pendant my brother gave me when we were children," She smiled wryly. "Serves me right for wearing it in battle." They reached the dock, and the two elves began to scan the ground for anything that resembled a pendant. Legolas spotted a glint of a light, milky-blue color in the midst of the dead Orcs. He bent down to examine it, and pulled out a necklace with a beautiful blue stone attached to it.

"Is this it?" He asked, holding up the pendant. Idrial turned, and smiled.

"Yes, it is. Hannon lle, Legolas." She reclaimed the pendant, and found that she was less than a foot away from the other elf. She noticed a fairly large cut on his cheek, and she carefully reached up and brushed it. "Where did you get this?" She asked. Legolas reached up and touched the cut.

"I don't know… I didn't know it was there until you mentioned it. Is it bleeding?" Idrial shook her head.

"No…" She mumbled something under her breath and gently pressed her hand against the small slash mark. The skin knitted itself together in seconds, as though nothing had ever happened.

"Thank you," Legolas said. Idrial smiled, and tilted her head to the side a little.

"Consider it a show of thanks for finding my pendant." There was a pause, and not for the first time, Idrial discovered that she was smack dab in front of Legolas again. Funny how that always seemed to happen. It was about two seconds after this first observation that she realized her hand was still on his cheek. She blushed, but he did not seem to mind. Her hand unconsciously moved to his neck, and before she was overly aware of what was happening, he had an arm around her waist. And they were kissing.

Idrial's mind was too clouded to berate herself for this. If anything, she leaned into it. The difference between this kiss and Berethor and Morwen's kiss was that no one was around to interrupt them, and so both could go on until they had to pause for breath.

When they did, Idrial turned an interesting shade of crimson. She opened her mouth to say something… and the words died on her tongue. What could she say? Legolas also seemed at a loss for words. They simply stood there, in the same position they had began. Finally, Idrial carefully pulled her arm away from his neck, however reluctantly, and brought it back to her side. Legolas pulled his arm back as well. There was a long and awkward pause, and Idrial looked at the ground.

"…Shall we go back now?" Legolas asked. Idrial looked up, knowing full well that she was still blushing. Still at a loss for words, she simply nodded, tucked her pendant into her pocket, and started walking. Along the way, though, she felt Legolas reach down and tentatively squeeze her hand.

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Berethor and Morwen were awake when the two elves returned, but were being forced to lie still by Eaoden and Elegost. "You've both had massive injuries, and you're tired as h-ll. Just humor us and lie still, all right?"

"No!" Morwen snapped, attempting to get up again. "Not all right! I'm fine, restless, and I want to get up!" She snarled, sending Elegost a look that would have made a cave troll cower.

"You're just telling yourself that. Lie back." Hadhod snapped. Legolas and Idrial exchanged amused looks, and then Legolas went to find Gimli and Aragorn. The other six noticed the elf and fell silent. There was a pause, and they all exchanged looks with one another.

"So," said Berethor, sitting up. "Our company has reunited." There were nods from all, some more slow than others.

"We have come far," Idrial said. "From Eregion… to Moria… to Lothlorien…"

"To the Emnet Gullies," Elegost added, leaning against the wall.

"To the Rohan," Hadhod continued.

"To Helms Deep," Morwen said.

"And then to Gondor. We have endured so much." Eaoden finished.

"Aye," Hadhod agreed. "More than most companies can endure." Berethor smirked.

"We are no simple company, Hadhod. We are of all races- human, elf, dwarf, and we all come from different places. Elegost is from Ithilien, Idrial from Lothlorien, you from the mountains, Eaoden and Morwen from Rohan, and I from Gondor. How many people from so different places get along so well without murdering each other?"

"With a high bit of tolerance and much ale," Hadhod grunted. Idrial and Morwen laughed.

"Come, Hadhod, it hasn't been too bad," Elegost chuckled.

"Eh. I suppose not." The Dwarf admitted. Idrial suddenly went serious.

"You all speak as though the war was over," She said quietly. "When we still have yet one more battle to face." Everyone's smiles dropped immediately. They all knew she was right- they had won the battle, but not the war.

They still had to face Mordor head-on.

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The story's winding to an end! The tension builds!


	17. The Final Battle for Middle Earth begins

Author's Note: The tension builds! Well, not really. You people know what happen.

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This was it. All of the battles, all of the stress, all of the tension had built up to this moment. It was time to challenge Sauron himself. So naturally, in this critical time, no one knew what course of action to take. Berethor, Idrial, Elegost, Hadhod, Morwen, Eaoden, Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf and Eomer had gathered in the throne room of Minas Tirith to discuss options.

"Frodo has passed beyond my site," Gandalf said quietly. No one could hold back their troubled looks. "The darkness is deepening," The White Wizard continued.

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it." Aragorn said tersely. He had his back to everyone, facing the giant windows with his arms crossed. He sounded bitter and worried for his small friend. Gandalf sighed.

"It's only a matter of time," He said. There was a long silence at these words. Idrial looked to the ground. Elegost stared at Aragorn's back, as though waiting for the other Ranger to say something back. Berethor shifted over so that he was closer to Morwen.

The problem? They all knew Gandalf was right. "He has suffered a great defeat, yes," Gandalf said. "But behind the walls of Mordor, our enemy is regrouping." Gimli, who was sitting on the throne that had once been Denethor's, took a puff on his pipe and spoke up.

"Let him stay there," He said. The dwarf's voice then rose to a loud snarl, "Let him rot! Why should we care?"

"Here, here!" Hadhod added. "Let the monster stew in his own muck!" Gandalf slowly turned around to face them.

"Because ten-thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," he said. Gimli reddened slightly in embarrassment and took his pipe out of his mouth. Gandalf shook his head, his eyes wide with understanding. "I've sent him to his death," He mumbled more to himself than the others.

"No."

Aragorn turned around and uncrossed his arms. "No. There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time, and safe passage across the plains of Gorgoth. We can give him that." He said, glancing at his friends meaningfully. Berethor's eyes narrowed in thought, and then snapped open wide in clarity.

"He wants us to _what_?" He whispered, suddenly understanding what Aragorn was suggesting.

"How?" Gimli asked, still not quite caught on. Aragorn looked around, meeting everyone's eye.

"We draw out Sauron's armies- Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate." Gimli choked hard on his pipe, and Hadhod gave him a whack on the back.

"What strength are you thinking we have?" Idrial asked, stepping forward. "Many of the men of Gondor and Rohan were wiped out in the siege- We have only a couple hundred left!" Eomer nodded in agreement with the elf.

"Idrial is right- We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms." He said. Aragorn nodded.

"You are both right," He admitted. " Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo a chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us." He shot a look to Berethor and Elegost. "Keep him blind to all else that moves."

"A diversion," Legolas muttered, nodding. Elegost nodded slowly.

"So Frodo could sneak past and destroy the Ring without Sauron ever being aware of his presence." He said. He looked at his five companions. "It could work. Even if we don't survive, there are others who could rebuild if the Ring is destroyed."

"Yes, without the burden of the Orcs and Nazgul," Eaoden said. Gandalf shook his head and went up to Aragorn.

"Sauron will suspect a trap," he said. "He will not take the bait." Aragorn smirked slyly, as though he knew something no one else did.

"Oh, I think he will," he argued gently. Gimli chuckled.

"Certainty of death," he said. "Small chance of success," He nodded, and said wryly "What are we waiting for?"

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And so, the next day, every soldier in Minas Tirith, from both Gondor and Rohan, marched off for the Black Gate. Aragorn rode ahead, wearing royal looking battle attire. Legolas and Gimli were on a horse next to him, with Gandalf and Pippin nearby. Merry hitched a ride with Eomer, and Berethor's company rode on their own horses. The ride was silent and tense with fear.

"Well Ranger," Hadhod said. "It would appear we've reached the end of the story."

"Don't be so negative, Hadhod. It's not set in stone that we're all going to die." He smirked. "Remember Helms Deep? How hopeless you thought it was then? And then when we were going off to help against the siege?" Hadhod nodded.

"Aye," He muttered. "You were always an optimistic one, Ranger. Always believing in hope," Hadhod snorted. "Always made me sick with that belief as well," But he said nothing more about the impending battle that awaited them. Elegost knew that, despite Hadhod's coldness, the dwarf had hope.

Elegost could see that his friends were tense, so he tried to lighten the mood slightly. "Well," he said a wry voice. "At least it isn't raining. Remember Helms Deep, when we were all in our armor in the rain?" Berethor's smirked, and the corner of Legolas' mouth twitched. "It sounded like a bloody symphony, with all the sounds the rain on the metal was making." Morwen giggled, and Idrial smiled wryly.

But the smiles became dispirited when they reached the Black Gate. The soldiers arranged themselves so that they were almost in a circle full of rows. For a moment, there was silence. "Where are they?" Pippin whispered from Shadowfax. Aragorn looked around, and then urged his horse forward, signaling for his friends to follow.

The ten riders charged up to the Gate and looked up. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!" He called. There was a pause. Just when Berethor was about to say something, a loud, vicious creaking noise sounded. The Black Gate was opening. But when the doors parted, they saw that only one soldier was there. He sat upon a black horse, with a large, black, spiked helmet set over his head so that his eyes appeared to be covered.

He moved his horse forward, and approached the group. There was silence, until he spoke. His voice was deep, and scratched like an un-greased wheel. Idrial gritted her teeth when she heard it. "Who here believe they have the authority to treat with me?" The creature grunted.

"We do not come here to treat, minion of Sauron," Gandalf said coldly. When he spoke, the creature whipped its head around to the sound of the voice. He grinned, and his slashed mouth revealed disgusting, filed and bloody teeth.

"Old Grey-beard," he said mockingly. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee," The creature reached down, and ripped up a shirt from the back of his horse. Berethor recognized the material as Mithril, a metal used mostly by the elves and dwarves. He wasn't certain what it meant, but it was clearly something bad. The creature tossed the shirt to Gandalf, who looked horrified as he caught it.

"Frodo…" Pippin whispered, his eyes wide. "Frodo!"

"Be silent," Gandalf whispered, though he too looked stricken at the sight of the shirt.

"No!" Merry cried, and the creature whipped his head towards the Hobbit.

"Silence!" Gandalf said sharply. The creature chuckled darkly.

"The halfling was dear to thee, I see." He hissed.

"What did you do, you vile creature?" Idrial snarled, glaring at the creature when he turned to face her.

"That is not your affair, She-Elf," He said loudly. "If I am not mistaken, you were not one of the nine from Rivendell. You never even met the halfling." Idrial looked ready to attack the creature, but Legolas reached over and touched her arm. There was grief in both his and Gimli's eyes.

"The mithril shirt was Frodo's," He whispered to both Idrial and her companions.

"It is hard to believe how someone so small could endure so much pain," Sauron's Mouth said. "And he suffered, Gandalf Greyhame." Without warning, Aragorn nudged his horse forward. The Mouth of Sauron turned. "And who is this? Isildur's heir?" He asked snidely. "It takes more to make a king then some broken elvish blade-"

With a sudden, furious cry, Aragorn ripped his sword from its scabbard and decapitated the Mouth of Sauron. "I guess that concludes negotiations," Gimli mumbled.

"I do not believe it! I will not! Aragorn snarled. The Mouth of Sauron's horse went charging back into Mordor, and in the distance, Berethor saw none other than Sauron's Eye whirling to glare at them, sensing the death of his underling.

Boom, boom, boom.

The Orcs were marching. They could see the flags and the disgusting creatures that held them coming. "Fall back," Aragorn said, not immediately taking his eyes off the Orcs. "Fall back!" The battle chants of the Orcs rang in Morwen's ears as she and her friends charged back to the lines of men. "Hold your ground!" Aragorn cried. "Hold your ground." He swung his horse along the line of men in front of him. They looked scared and forlorn.

"Sons of Gondor, of Rohan, my brothers!" The King cried. The men seemed slightly enlightened by this, and moved forward a bit. "I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come, when the courage of men fails," He said. "When we forsake our friends, and brake all bonds of Fellowship."

At this moment, Berethor felt his journey pass through his eyes again: being attacked by the Nazgul in Eregion, and meeting Idrial. Traveling to the pass of Caradhras, and "saving" Elegost from the Wargs he had been hunting. Following him back through a part of Eregion to meet Hadhod, and finding the map that led them to Moria. Seeing the Balrog, and watching Gandalf fall.

Escaping the mines, and traveling to Lothlorien. The stay had been brief, but memorable. Reaching the East Emnet Gullies and meeting with Idrial's brother, Aranel, and finding Gandalf again. From there to Rohan, where they met Morwen and Eaoden. The Battle of Helms Deep flashed before him- the carnage, the pain of seeing children being fitted for battle. The inner turmoil he felt at the thought of Morwen and Idrial. How silly those worries seemed now.

The Battle of Pelennor Fields, the Siege on Minas Tirith, and splitting of him, Morwen and Eaoden with Idrial, Elegost and Hadhod when they went to the Paths of the Dead with Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli. The pain he had felt when he was stabbed repeatedly by an Orc. And the pure joy he had felt when Morwen had found him, and he knew she was not seriously hurt. All of that leading up to this one, defining battle.

Aragorn was still talking. "But it is not this day," He said determinedly. "An hour of wolves and shattered shields, when the age of Men comes crashing down. _But it is not this day._ This day, we fight!"

Berethor thought of his family- thankfully safe and sound, with his father and brother still in the Houses of Healing back in Minas Tirith. He thought of his friends, and the people they had lost to Sauron. Morwen had lost her parents, Idrial her many kin at Helms Deep. Hadhod had lost all of his sons when they went to Moria with Balin all those years ago. The pain of those losses was what spurred them to fight.

"By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand! Men of the West!" Aragorn roared, unsheathing Anduril and holding it high and proud. The Orcs had almost surrounded them by now, as the riders dismounted their horses. Merry and Pippin were shifting around, tense but ready to fight. Berethor sighed, and steeled himself. He turned to his companions- his dear friends.

"Good luck to you all," He said. Elegost nodded.

"And to you, Berethor of Gondor," He said, his right fist over his heart in salute. Morwen discreetly clasped his hand, and Idrial nodded.

"Luck," she said, glancing down at everyone. Now the army of men was completely surrounded. Gimli sighed.

"Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf," he muttered gruffly. Legolas smiled and looked down at him.

"How about fighting side by side with a friend?" He asked. Gimli thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

"Aye. I could do that." He said softly. Legolas looked down the line and met Idrial's eyes. He smiled and mouthed _'Luck'_. Aragorn raised his sword, and looked head-on at the army. But then, something seemed to catch his gaze. The Eye of Sauron was looking right at him. There was a pause, and Aragorn seemed to relax slightly. He took a few steps forward, and Elegost's eyes narrowed.

"What is he doing?" he whispered to Eaoden.

"I don't know," The Outrider replied. Aragorn swung his sword down slowly so that it was at his side, and he took another step towards Mordor. Then he turned back to face his friends. There was a long, suspenseful silence. A small smile appeared on the King's face and he whispered,

_"For Frodo," _

He raised his sword again, and then took off at a charge to the Gate. Pippin and Merry were the first to let out Battle cries and charge after him. Gandalf raised his staff high, Berethor his sword. Morwen swung her axes, with Gimli and Hadhod, and Elegost and Legolas shots arrows at the Orc army. As they plunged into the army, the Last Battle for Middle Earth began.

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	18. The End

This is the last chapter folks! Thankies to all who reviewed the story, y'all are great! I'll start thinking up ideas for a sequel!

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The army of men hit Sauron's army like wave onto rock. Despite the small size of the Rohan/Gondor army, They seemed to be prevailing against the Orcs. Gandalf's white robes were torn and stained with the blood of the Orcs. Legolas didn't have a scratch on him (And even if he did, we all know who would take care of him later winkwink), and neither did Gimli or Aragorn.

Berethor had a cut to the arm that was a slight distraction, but not something that completely marred his train of thought. Idrial, being as quick as she was, was able to avoid most jabs and slashes made at her. Elegost had a slight bruise on his cheek, and Hadhod's helm was dented, but they were all right. Eaoden's cape had been torn off, but in all honesty, he was more interested in keeping his head than looking for it. Morwen had a slash mark down her stomach that hurt like nobody's business, but she didn't let it bother her- she just grit her teeth and took it.

About twenty minutes into the battle, a terrifyingly familiar screech echoed through the field. Berethor's breath caught in his throat, as did Morwen's and Idrial's. They all knew the screech of the Nazgul when they heard it. "Gandalf! The Nazgul!" Morwen cried, turning to the wizard. He too had heard the shrieks. He paused, his sword Glamdring raised in defense.

But just then, a small winged creature fluttered past his face. Morwen thought it was a moth, but saw that it was far too big. Gandalf smiled at the little creature, and then looked towards the descending Nazgul again. Curious, Morwen also looked up. Without warning, a large eagle came from nowhere and caught one of the Riders as it was about to attack!

Idrial gasped. "The Winglords!" She cried. The soldiers and even some of the Orcs looked up to see what she meant.

"The eagles!" Pippin cried. Several giant eagles came soaring through the clouds, tackling the Black Riders in mid-air and killing the Fell-Beasts.

"Finally!" Elegost screamed in a very un-Elegost fashion. "A stroke of good fortune! The tide is turning!" But he soon bit his tongue. For off in the distance there was a high pitched keening, and many turned to see… The Eye of Sauron, whirling around to look at Mount Doom. The Nazgul shrieked hysterically and immediately turned tail and fled back to Mordor.

Berethor was shocked and amazed. Could it be? Could Frodo have gotten the Ring to Mount Doom? Was Sauron only minutes away from total defeat? Berethor could not ponder this long, seeing as how an Orc came by and attempted to decapitate him. Gandalf seemed to sense Sauron calling to his servants, as he was bent over in pain, a hand on his head.

Nearby, Aragorn had just slaughtered another Orc when he heard a stomping sound. Behind him was a giant Troll that had adorned black, spiked armor. It roared and swung at Aragorn with its crudely made sword. Aragorn grunted from the effort of blocking the blow, swinging Anduril back up to meet the troll's sword. He swung at its neck, and then parried as it struck again.

Just then, a blow from behind knocked Aragorn to the ground. Legolas, Idrial, Gimli and Berethor saw this. Legolas cried out and tried to fight his way to his friend. Aragorn felt the rumble in the ground as the troll approached, intending to kill the King. "ARAGORN!" Legolas cried. Idrial, Gimli and Berethor were also fighting furiously, trying to make their way to the troll and keep it from murdering their friend. But they were unable to.

The troll pinned Aragorn to the ground with its foot on his chest. Aragorn pulled his knife from his belt and stabbed into the troll's leathery skin. It roared in pain and raised its foot away, but then prepared to bring it down. "No! Aragorn!" Gimli yelled, hacking away at an Orc blocking his path, but to no avail. When one Orc was killed, another moved in to take its place. The troll raised its foot to stomp Aragorn into the ground and kill him.

"NO! ARAGORN!"

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

A violent, high-pitched screech echoed through the fields. Everyone in the battle, even the Orcs, stopped dead in their tracks. All turned to the Tower of Barad-Dur. Atop the menacing tower, Sauron's eye was sizzling erratically, its pupil fiery and black. Without warning, the troll turned tail and ran off into the crowd before he could kill Aragorn. The King jumped to his feet and whirled to look at the tower. Gandalf slowly turned to look as well.

Idrial lowered her sword, and Morwen dropped her battle-axes to her side. Elegost's hands were at his side as well- his bow in one hand, an arrow in the other. Eaoden ripped his spear out of a dead Orc. Hadhod and Gimli froze, the sudden wind ruffling their beards. Legolas, his knives in hand, just stared. There wasn't silence, but the noise died considerably. Everyone's eyes were on the Eye of Sauron. Smoke curled around Mount Doom and the Tower of Barad-Dur, just above Sauron. His eye fizzled wildly, and then, a miracle occurred.

The Tower of Barad-Dur collapsed. Sauron's all-seeing eye exploded as soon as it hit the ground.

The Battle was over. The race of men had won.

Frodo had succeeded.

The War was over.

"FRODO!" Merry cheered, overjoyed, raising his sword to the sky. "FRODO!" Gimli cheered wildly, and he and Hadhod embraced in brotherly spirit. A backlash of energy rippled across Mordor and the Pelennor fields, destroying any Orc it touched. The grounds of Mordor collapsed into the earth. Behind him, Berethor could still hear Merry and now Pippin cheering "FRODO! FRODO!"

Morwen was shrieking in disbelief, and she flung her arms around his neck. "It's over!" She shrieked. "It's over! My parents may rest in peace knowing that their murderer is dead!" In a moment of blurry excitement, Idrial copied Morwen's movement and threw her arms around Legolas' neck. Naturally, the elf did not object, hugging her back in happiness.

The Orcs ran screaming from Mordor, attempting to get away before they could be caught in the implosion. Even Gandalf cheered as the towers on the ends of the Black Gate fell in on themselves. Then, Mount Doom began to explode, a plume of lava spurting into the air. A part of the mountain broke off and slid down. Mount Doom was imploding on itself.

The cheering stopped immediately. Merry looked shocked, his eyes wide as he saw the Mountain collapse. A tear slid down Gandalf's cheek. Aragorn stared, mouth open, sorrow plain in his gray eyes. Frodo was dead. There was no way he could have survived in the explosion. Bits of debris crashed down, striking the Fell-Beasts and killing them.

"Frodo," Pippin was on his knees, no longer cheering, but sobbing. "Frodo…" Morwen knelt down next to him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Frodo…" He sobbed. Berethor turned to look at Gandalf… but the wizard was gone. There was a screech that echoed through the fields, but this one did not inspire any terror. This was the cry of the Winglords, or the giant eagles. And on the back of the largest eagle… Berethor could have sworn he'd seen Gandalf.

"What is he doing?" Idrial whispered.

"I think… He's looking for Frodo." Legolas whispered, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. All could see the eagles soar above the wreckage of Mount Doom, and then, they appeared to hover in one place. Berethor saw them swoop down… and pick something up. Not just one thing, but two. His heart caught in his throat. Dare he think it? Dare he believe that Frodo was alive?

The eagles swooped back, and didn't tarry above the fields. They went straight for Minas Tirith. Berethor watched their flight, and saw Aragorn come up next to him out of the corner of his eye. Maybe another miracle had occurred.

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_Four days later…_

Berethor was finally at peace.

Four days after the ending of the war, things were falling back into the old routine. Very nearly a year ago, Berethor had been uprooted from Minas Tirith and asked to find Boromir, the son of the Steward. He had been pulled into a journey unlike any other. He had made new friends, fought in memorable battles, and he had seen more of Middle Earth than he had ever cared to see.

An hour ago, Aragorn had been crowned the official King of Gondor. Berethor was in attendance with Morwen, who had actually decided to adorn a dress for once in the spirit of the celebration. Elegost, Eaoden, Gimli and Hadhod were there as well. Elegost's arm was in a sling from a wound he had received during the battle, and Eaoden had a bandage on his face from where he had been cut, but otherwise everyone was all right.

Idrial was right up there next to Legolas. Berethor noted the elleth's attraction to the ellon, and wondered if maybe it were a good thing he'd chosen to stick by Morwen. The ceremony was beautiful- white petals fell over the courtyard of the citadel. It was a fairy-tale-ending to a long and fantastic story. Now, Berethor was seated in the dining hall of the castle, Morwen at his side. Aragorn was up dancing with his intended wife, an elf named Arwen.

Elegost was seated across from him, along with Eaoden. Hadhod, not yet drunk, came over and sat down as well. Soon Idrial joined them. The small company sat in silence for a moment. Because they had achieved the goal of their quest, there was really no reason for them to stay together. But even though they knew this, it would be a hard parting.

Finally, Elegost broke the silence. "So," He said. "What happens next?" There was a pause.

"I plan to stay in Gondor," Berethor said. "I will resume my duties as a soldier and guard of the citadel here." He glanced at Morwen. "And… Morwen had decided to stay with me." Hadhod snorted into his mug.

"Surprise, surprise," he mumbled. Elegost chuckled and elbowed his friend. Morwen laughed.

"I have no need to return to Rohan," She explained. "I have nothing left there. My family is gone. My home is destroyed. Perhaps I shall find a bit of both in Minas Tirith." Eaoden nodded.

"I am returning with Lord Eomer and the remaining soldiers of Rohan," He said. "I will, like Berethor, resume my duties in my homeland. I serve my new King now." He was, of course, referring to Eomer. After his uncle's death, since Theodred was gone, Eomer was next in line for king.

"I, for one, will be returning to Eregion and continuing my Ranger duties," Elegost said. "Of course, this means you could expect a surprise visit from me… if I'm in the neighborhood."

"Or the country," Idrial said. Elegost nodded.

"Or the country, yes." There was another group chuckle, and then silence again.

"What about you, Hadhod?" Berethor asked.

"I must return to my home as well," He sighed. "I need to confirm to my people about Moria. Perhaps an army will be sent down to exterminate the remaining goblins that dwell there. I suspect that the mines are a bit safer now, without the Balrog lurking in the depths of the mountain." He took a sip from his mug. "I will probably travel with Elegost, if he wishes to bear me as a burden."

"You are a welcome burden, my friend," Elegost said, clasping Hadhod's shoulder. The dwarf grunted slightly.

"And what of you, elf? Where do you intend to go now that this marvelous quest is over?" Idrial tapped her fingers on the table for a moment.

"It is likely that I will return to Lothlorien," She said. "But even then… I will not remain long. My people are leaving Middle Earth." Eaoden choked on his ale and stared at the elf, surprised.

"Leaving? To where?" Idrial looked down.

"Valinor," She said. "The time of the elves is over. The race of Men now had dominion over Middle Earth." There was a sad silence. It was heartbreaking to know that one of their number would be leaving for good. "But," Idrial said. "If Middle Earth appeals to me… I may decide to stay."

"What happens if you stay behind?" Berethor asked softly.

"I will gradually become a mortal," Idrial said. "If I stayed, I would still be alive when even your great-grandchildren have gone to their graves, but in terms of my own existence, it would be a short life." Berethor suddenly stood up, and picked up his mug. Everyone looked at him. The Gondorian took a deep breath, and then said,  
"We have endured so much. We have fought every creature imaginable, from Orcs to Uruk-Hai, and trolls to Balrogs. We have fought in the same battles, seen the same horrors, and felt the same fear. We are a Fellowship in our own terms." He raised his mug, and his friends caught the gist. They quickly stood up, pulling up their mugs as well. Berethor swallowed.

"To friendship. If in life we are destined to be parted, then may we meet again in the heavens." He knocked mugs with his friends.

And in their own eyes, they were truly a Fellowship.

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_And all will turn to silver glass_

_A light on the water_

_Grey ships pass_

_Into the West_

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_**Fin**_


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